


Four's Company

by orphan_account



Series: Four's Company [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Barebacking, Bottom Dean, Bottom Sam, Coda, Coming Untouched, Dirty Talk, Episode: s12e16 Ladies Drink Free, Fluff, M/M, Oral Sex, Season/Series 12, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-05
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2018-10-15 01:40:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 45,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10547880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Mick and Ketch show up on the bunker's doorstep, having decided to fully commit to "learning how to hunt".





	1. Chapter 1

“Man, I am _beat_ ,” Dean sighed, slumping onto the couch in the library. Sam chuckled, sitting down at one of the tables.

“So… About Mick.”

Dean looked over. “He did good. He fucked up, but he fixed it. He’s got a second chance, I already told him that, and I meant it.”

“You still cool with me and him—“

“Stabbing your starfish?”

Sam grimaced, throwing his head back. “Way to be crude.”

“Well! And yeah, I don’t care. He was trying to help, I know that. He just went about it wrong.”  
Sam nodded, smiling a little. “Thank you, Dean.”

“Yeah, whatever. You want a beer?” He asked as he rose.

“Sure, that’d be great,” Sam said, pulling out a few of the books Mick let him borrow. As Dean passed, he grabbed one, flipping it open.

“You two are a good match.”

“Why do you say that?” Sam asked, opening another and pulling out his laptop to take notes.

“You’re both nerds.”

Sam glared up at him. “You read lore too.”

“Not for fun, you dork.” Dean shoved the book back toward Sam and walked into the kitchen.

Sam looked up when a knock sounded at the door. Dean entered, scowling a little. “Expecting company?”

“Nope.”  
They headed up the stairs, checking for their guns. Dean reached the door first, unlocking it and pulling it open.

“Oh you _gotta_ be kidding me.” He pulled the door open wider and stepped back, standing next to Sam.

In the doorway stood Mick and Ketch. However, the shocking part of their arrival was what they were _wearing_. Mick was smiling sheepishly, a black duffel similar to Dean’s slung over his shoulder. Under a simple military style coat was a red and black flannel shirt, buttoned a little too close to the throat. Instead of his normal slacks, he had on a pair of blue jeans. The entire outfit was finished with a set of heavy work boots.

Behind him, Ketch was scowling at the ceiling. He was wearing his riding jacket, unzipped to show that he too had on a flannel shirt, a pair of black jeans finishing his wardrobe.

“Uh—“ Sam tried to bite back the laugh that threatened to burst, successful except a snort. “What are you guys doing?”

Mick stepped in, dropping the duffel by the door. “I heard Dean a few days ago. What he said about being an American hunter. So, I found another case and I’m ready to try it your way. _Entirely_ your way. And Mr. Ketch is on board as well.”

Dean was chuckling behind his hand, looking Ketch up and down. “He doesn’t look on board.”

“I was blackmailed,” Ketch muttered, his teeth gritted as he glared at the back of Mick’s head.

“It wasn’t blackmail, it was simple persuasion,” Mick said. He turned his focus back to Sam and Dean. “So what about it, lads? Ready to go in an hour?”

Sam chuckled softly. “You know, Mick… I’m glad you’re gung ho for this but—Dean didn’t mean you _literally_ could only wear flannel as a hunter. It’s just the norm because it helps us stay warm if we have to sleep in the car.”

“Sleep in the car?” Ketch cried, his arms dropping to his sides. Dean laughed openly now.

“What? Assumed American hunting was luxurious? Sorry, man. Life on the road here isn’t easy.”

“Well, whatever it is. We’ll do it. We want to learn, Dean, truly,” Mick implored.

Dean wet his lips, looking between the two. He sighed then and scratched the back of his head.

“Not tonight. Sam and I are still beat from the case with Claire. We’ll leave in the morning.”

“But—“

“You wanna learn how to hunt like us? You take our leads,” Dean cut off Ketch before he could argue.

“Come on, Sammy was just about to go get dinner.”

“I was?” Sam asked. Dean nodded.

“And you can bring along Mick. How about pizza?”

Sam shrugged, holding his hand out for the keys. Dean dragged them from his pocket, but held them above Sam’s palm for a moment.

“Don’t _do_ anything in my car.”

Sam smirked. “Don’t touch my stuff while I’m gone.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. He dropped the keys into Sam’s palm. “Bitch.”

“Jerk. Come on, Mick.” He grabbed Mick’s coat sleeve and dragged him toward the garage.

 

Ketch entered further, shedding his jacket and hanging it on one of the hooks by the door before closing it.

“Well. What do you gentlemen do with your free time?” He asked, turning back to Dean.

Dean’s bottom lip was between his teeth, his eyes dragging up and down Ketch’s body slowly. Ketch sighed, crossing his arms over his chest. The sleeves of the flannel bulged a little with his muscles.

“Yes, I know. I look ridiculous.”

“Actually… You look kind of…”

“What? Like a clown?”

Dean stepped up to Ketch and shoved his arms apart, sliding his hands up Ketch’s chest. “Kind of like I wanna rip that shirt off you,” He whispered.

Ketch swallowed audibly, meeting Dean’s lust blown gaze. “How long will your brother be gone?”

“About half an hour probably.”

“Good enough for me.” Ketch fisted Dean’s shirt and spun them, slamming him against the door before catching his lips in a bruising kiss.

Dean groaned, grabbing a handful of Ketch’s hair. His other hand slid down to squeeze his ass, grinding their crotches together.  

"You need to come over more often," Dean panted. 

"And why is that?"

"Because I've wanted you to fuck me again since that time in the bathroom."

Ketch smirked. "Bring me lube and a condom then, and I'll happily oblige."

Dean nodded. "I've got some in my bag in the library."

Ketch followed Dean down the steps, palming his cock through the constricting jeans. 

Dean dug through his bag before coming up with lube. He bit his lip and turned to Ketch. 

"Have you been tested?"

"Regularly. A requirement with the Men of Letters."

"Well, I'm clean too, so... If you wanna go bare--"

Ketch smirked and grabbed the lube, turning Dean and shoving him onto the table. 

Dean groaned, his cock beginning to ache. He reached down and undid his jeans, shoving them down and slipping his boxers just past his ass; Sam would never forgive him if he came on those precious lore books. 

Ketch was driving two fingers into Dean's ass in no time. He grunted a bit, spreading them. 

"You're more relaxed."

"Should hope so," Dean panted, "haven't been able to come in weeks without something up my ass thanks to you."

Ketch chuckled. "You're welcome. But that's good. We can get right down to business. Would you like me to pull out?"

"No, just come inside. Cleanup will be easier."

"Like before?" 

Dean hesitated a moment. There was a gentleness in Ketch's voice that he hadn't heard the last time. He lifted himself up and turned, sitting on the edge of the table. 

"No. Go sit on the couch."

Ketch raised his eyebrows but did as Dean requested. He splayed his legs out, cock jutting out of the black denim and lying against the flannel. His bicep was stretched across the back of the couch, bent at the elbow as he rubbed his fingers over the side of his face. 

"Is there a reason you're still over there?"

"You're impatient," Dean muttered. He crossed the space between them and sank to his knees. Before he could get nervous, Dean grasped Ketch's cock and slid the smooth skin down to reveal his flushed tip. Their eyes met for a moment and Dean smirked. He went forward and sank down on the cock in front of him until it hit the back of his throat. 

Ketch shouted in surprise, nearly leaping away from Dean. He grabbed the back of his head, tugging the short hair. 

Dean began to bob his head along the shaft, sucking and licking, and using just enough teeth make Ketch squirm under him.  

“Dean—“

Dean rolled his eyes up, watching Ketch’s expression change as he sucked hard and moved his head up, freeing the tip with a small, wet pop. He licked his lips and smiled. 

“What?”

“I— Must admit I didn’t expect this. If you keep at it like that, you’re going to make me come.”

“That’s the plan.”

“But didn’t you want sex?” 

Dean shrugged, pointing his tongue and sliding it along the slit of Ketch’s cock to gather the precome beading there. 

“You’re staying the night. We can fuck when we’re in my room.” 

“Does your brother know about what we’ve done?”

“It’s none of his business. He’ll be too busy with his new boyfriend to notice.”

Ketch reached out, palming Dean’s jaw in his rough hand. “You almost sound jealous.”

Dean pulled his face out of Ketch’s grip. “I don’t wanna talk about Sam. We only have a little bit of time, do you want this or not?”

“Of course.”

Dean nodded, his jaw set. He lowered his head and took Ketch’s cock back into his mouth, sucking with renewed vigor. Ketch groaned, fisting Dean’s hair as his hips jerked up. 

Dean curled his tongue around Ketch’s shaft, sucking hard. Ketch’s precome was hot and bitter on his tongue, urging him forward. He reached down to palm his own cock, throbbing dully in the confines of his shorts.

“Dean— I’m close, I—“

Dean continued to bob his head, ignoring Ketch’s warnings. The man under him went stiff, grunting Dean’s name under his breath as hot come spilled into his mouth. Dean swallowed as quickly as he could, a swell of pride growing in his chest that he could make someone like _that_ lose control so quickly.

 

He pulled off when Ketch began to soften against his tongue and moved up, straddling Ketch’s hips. 

“Good?”

“You have a very talented mouth, Mr. Winchester,” Ketch mumbled, reaching up and running his thumb along Dean’s swollen bottom lip. 

Dean smiled a little, opening his mouth a little. He let his teeth scrape against the callused pad of his thumb, earning a soft groan.

 

“Dean! We’re back,” Sam’s voice called from the hallway. Dean scrambled into a standing position, trying to fix his jeans without injuring his still present erection. Sam stepped into the library and stopped short, his eyes darting between the two men as Dean zipped his jeans.

“What?”

“Y—“ Sam closed his mouth, still trying to put together the scene in front of him. 

“Sammy, don’t.”

“You chewed my ass about sleeping with Mick when you’re screwing _him_?” Sam cried, motioning to Ketch.

“He knows we’re sleeping together?” Mick asked.

Sam sighed. “Yeah, he heard us in the hotel – Come _on_ , Dean.”

“Well what’s wrong with it? You have your fun, I have mine.”

“You _hate_ these guys.”

Mick and Ketch both scowled at Sam.

“No, I hate him,” Dean jutted a finger in Mick’s direction.

“And _Ketch_?” Sam asked.

“He’s different.”

“He’s psychotic.”

“You are aware that I can hear every word you’re saying,” Ketch said, rising slowly.

Sam sighed. “I know. And you can’t tell me I’m wrong. You’re unstable.”

“I am. But so is your brother and you have no problem keeping a relationship with him.”

“He’s my _brother_. And he’s not as bad as you.”

“He’s not that bad, Sam,” Dean defended, stepping closer to Ketch.

Mick cleared his throat, setting the boxes of pizza and the bags onto the library table.

“Why don’t we take a step back and look at this as a bigger picture?” He suggested, standing between the brothers.

“And what’s the bigger picture?” Sam asked.

“This isn’t a bad thing, Sam. You wanted Dean to cooperate with our men. Obviously Mr. Ketch has made a positive impression on him, whether or not it’s a sexual one – He is still going to be more cooperative if he has someone within my men that he cares for.”

“It’s not like that,” Both Dean and Ketch muttered. Mick looked over at them.

“It’s not?”

“It’s just sex,” Dean muttered.

“It’s still an intimate connection,” Mick argued. He looked back at Sam, raising his eyebrows.

Sam looked over at his brother and Ketch, clearly torn. Finally, he sighed.

“He’s right. You’re right, Mick. This isn’t bad – Just—It startled me.”

“Sorry I didn’t tell you, Sam. After you almost got killed by those vamps, I didn’t figure it would be good to bring it up.”

“That’s when you two started sleeping together?”

“We just did it once. Before we went to look for the vamps ourselves… By the time we made sure you guys and Mom were safe we—Didn’t really think about it after.”

“Come on, pizza’s getting cold.”

Dean didn’t move at first, still watching Sam. Sam offered a small smile.

“It’s really okay, Dean. I understand.”

Dean’s mouth curled downward a little. Ketch set his hand on Dean’s shoulder, giving it a squeeze to get his attention. “Go eat, Pet.”

Mick stepped up to Sam, setting his hands on his upper arms. “This could be a good thing, Sam.”

Sam smiled a little, shaking his head.

“You’re too damn hopeful for a hunter.”

“Yes, well.” Mick squeezed his arms and backed up. “That is a part of my nature I’m afraid you won’t be able to change.”

“We don’t want to change you guys. We just wanna teach you. Show you another way.”

“We’ll discuss it more after dinner. Eat. I have to message the home office soon, let them know we’re putting you two on the case.”

“And you two?” Dean asked, his mouth full of food.

Mick grimaced a little but said nothing.

“They don’t need to know about our involvement,” Ketch said simply.

Dean hoisted himself onto the table, balancing as he continued to eat. “So you’re lying to ‘em?”

“No. We’re simply leaving out an unimportant tidbit of information that they needn’t know,” Mick said, following Sam to the table.

Sam poked Dean’s side. “We have chairs.”

“And I have a seat,” Dean argued.

Sam rolled his eyes, grabbing a slice of pizza and passing it over to Mick before taking his own. “And you wonder why they call us brutes.”

Ketch smiled a little at Sam’s words, taking a few steps closer to the table and Dean.

Sam met his gaze for a second, his eyes narrowed. He didn’t trust Ketch. There was something… _Off_ about him.

“Here.” Sam set his food down regardless and held out the box for Ketch.

“Thank you, Mr. Winchester.”

“What is with you guys _calling_ us that?” Dean whined. “We have first names.”

“And we have etiquette. You may want to teach us American hunting methods, but I do hope we’ll be able to teach you some proper manners as well,” Ketch said.

“Speaking of—Do you have plates?” Mick asked.

Sam snorted. “You don’t need plates for pizza, dude. Just put it in the box if you need your hands.”

Mick stared at him, deadpan.

“Oh for fuck’s sake, Mick, you eat his ass. Getting a few germs from his mouth if your pieces touch isn’t gonna kill you.”

“Dean!” Sam cried, his cheeks burning. Ketch chuckled a little, ducking his head down to hide his smile.

Sam tried to smile through his embarrassment. “There’s plates in the kitchen if you need one.” He nodded his head toward their kitchen.

“Ah… No. Dean has a point. I suppose my time of living in climate controlled offices and sterile environments is finished if I’m to be joining forces with you so—“ He set his half eaten slice back into the box with some hesitation before grabbing a bottle of beer and cracking it open.

Sam watched him, a small smile on his lips. He didn’t miss the grimace Mick made at the taste of the beer.

“You’re fitting right in,” He said softly.

“Oh am I?”

“Well, except…” Sam set his food down and wiped his hands on his jeans before reaching out. He mussed Mick’s hair a little, earning an indignant cry from the man and a laugh from Dean. Even Ketch made a noise as close to a chuckle as he dared when Mick glared daggers at him.

“Now what was that for?” He asked, trying unsuccessfully to pat down his mussed hair.

“Looks better that way,” Dean said, “Now you don’t look like you have a stick shoved up your ass.”

“Excuse me, _your_ partner as neat hair as well,” Mick argued, pointing at Ketch, who shrugged.

“He looks good with it. You look better a little messy.”

Mick huffed and Sam grinned. “He’s right. Looks more natural. And… The flannel isn’t necessary, but it does look nice.”

“Is it similar to a Pavlovian response?” Ketch asked.

“Is what?” Sam asked, taking a bite of his food. He smirked a little when Mick reached around him, picking up his slice and examining it before taking a bite.

“The flannel. It seems like both of you gentlemen get irrationally aroused at the sight of this type of fabric.”

“No, we—uh—“ Dean looked to Sam for help. Sam shrugged.

“No, it’s definitely conditioning. We’re so used to seeing hunters of both sexes wear it that we associate it with strength. And obviously the animal part of us associates strength in looks with strong breeding stock.”

“Breeding stock, Sam? We’re not bulls.”

“You’re as stubborn as one,” Mick muttered. Sam laughed before he could stop himself, biting his lip when Dean glared.

“Well he’s not wrong, Pet.”

“You’re not helping! And you’re stubborn too. Though I’d call you a _mule_ quicker than a bull.”

Ketch smirked, cocking one eyebrow. Dean’s smile faded; he knew that look already.

“Don’t—“

“Well, mules are a breed of horse, aren’t they?” Ketch asked. Dean tucked his chin to his chest, trying to cover his burning face with his hand.

“You did it anyway,” He lamented.

Sam groaned, wrinkling his nose. “Dude, I’m _eating_.”

“You _were_ the one that called us breeding stock,” Mick said simply.

“Really? Not gonna defend me here?”

Mick shrugged, taking a small sip of his beer. To Sam’s surprise, he barely winced at the taste this time.

Dean shook his head, grabbing a second slice of pizza a bottle of beer. He balanced the slice on his knee, using the table edge to pop the cap off.

“This is where a plate would come in handy,” Mick commented, settling into the chair next to Sam.

“You were just kneeling on the floor in those jeans,” Ketch commented.

“Hey, this floor is clean, no thanks to Sam here,” Dean argued. Sam glared.

“I keep it clean!”

“Oh bull.”

“You were the one that tossed siren guts around a month ago.”

“Dude, I was tired as hell and I mopped after that,” Dean said.

“Wait—You had a siren in here? Ketch asked.

“No, just her guts. It was one of those cases you sent us on when you were throwing them out like candy. Didn’t really have a chance to clean up.”

Mick chuckled. “You handled them all splendidly.”

“Yeah, you didn’t see us afterwards,” Dean muttered.

“No. But I trusted your brother’s reports. He kept us updated on—“

“You _reported_ to them?” Dean asked.

Sam looked down at his lap. “It was part of the job, Dean. I told you the truth.”

Dean snorted, rolling his eyes. Mick frowned a little, looking between the brothers.

“Mr. Ketch and I would be happy to stay in a hotel tonight, if you two would prefer we not sleep in the bunker.”

“What? No—You’re fine here, Mick,” Sam said, shooting Dean a look that dared him to argue. Dean’s jaw clenched but he shook his head.

“Yeah, it’s fine. We have plenty of room. Worse company has stayed here after all, I suppose.”

Sam snorted. “Like _Lucifer_?”

“Lucifer? The Archangel was in this bunker?” Ketch asked.

“Yeah,” Dean said, his voice laced with sarcasm, “So was God. And God’s sister at one point.”

“Yeah, and the King of Hell,” Sam mumbled.

“And of course angels, Rowena…” Dean added, taking a drink of beer.

“The Steins too, and Billie.”

Sam looked over, seeing Ketch’s stunned expression. “What?”

“You gentlemen are aware that this bunker is supposed to be a secret, correct?”

“Yeah, so?”

“It seems like the foot traffic is much… Larger than it should be for a secret bunker.”

“Hey, our Batcave, our rules,” Dean said.

Sam chuckled. “And really – the Men of Letters doesn’t _exist_ here, guys. I mean – you know that. We didn’t have anyone to teach us like you did.”

“Well, we’re here now,” Mick said, squeezing Sam’s knee.

“And we can fix some of the warding that seems to have broken,” Ketch offered.

“Just leave the angel warding down. Cas comes in and out and we don’t need him weakened,” Sam said.

Mick nodded. “That angel, Castiel. He’s an interesting fellow. Has he been friends with you for a long time?”

“Shouldn’t you know that? I thought you knew everything about us?” Dean asked.

Mick sighed, looking over at him. “The Old Men think they do. But from my experience with you two so far – there’s a lot of information we had very wrong. I’d rather get the truth.”

Sam smiled a little, his heart feeling two sizes bigger with the care in Mick’s voice.

“We’ve known him for eight years. It wasn’t a friendship right away – during the first Apocalypse he was kind of a dick – But he chose our side, even though it took away a lot of what he had. He’s made mistakes, and so have we, but he’s our best friend. I wouldn’t change that for the world.”

Mick smiled a little. “And you mentioned the King of Hell?”

“Uneasy alliance,” Dean said.

Sam snorted, smirking a little. “In other words, Dean doesn’t want to admit that Crowley and him were best friends while he was a demon.”

“You were a demon? That information was correct?” Ketch said.

“Mm, for a few months. Knight of Hell. Sammy cured me.”

“So this cure? It works?” Mick asked.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I mean, we’ve only tried it once, on Dean. And we have a video of another Man of Letters curing one, so two out of two.”

“Would you be willing to show me that video after dinner? I’ve always been fascinated with the theory but – I never took much stock in it.”

“Of course.”

“Perhaps we could find a demon and try it ourselves?” Ketch suggested.

Dean shrugged. “Go to a crossroads and snag one.”

“Won’t your demon friend be angry with that?”

Dean glared over at Ketch. “We aren’t _friends_. I tolerate him because he’s useful. And he’s helped us out. He cured Cas when _you guys_ got us wrapped up with that Yellow Eyed demon, and helped with the whole Lucifer thing.”

“Ah—I am sorry about that, Dean. We truly didn’t know. If the Old Men did—They didn’t tell me.”

“I believe you.”

“Why would you ever _believe_ us?” Mick asked. Dean half smiled and shrugged.

“Beats the hell out of me. Guess I gotta start believing you at some point, or this is never gonna work out.”

“This?” Sam asked. “Do you mean working with them, or—“ He nodded toward Ketch.

Dean looked over at Ketch, sighing a little and smiling. He looked back to Sam.

“Both.”

Sam smiled softly, looking up at Ketch. The man had stopped eating, watching Dean with what could only be described as a gentle expression. When he noticed Sam’s staring, he raised his eyebrows in question. Sam’s smile grew a little and he nodded; this might work out after all.

 

Dinner passed easily, laughter and stories shared from the brothers and their new guests. Things didn’t feel tense, as Sam had feared they would. Rather, it was an easy evening. Ketch detailed stories of past hunts over in Britain that didn’t go according to plan while Dean and Sam shot back with some of their worst hunts. Mick discussed various lore and new eradication techniques with Sam while Dean and Ketch groaned about dull discussion topics.

By midnight, Dean was stifling yawns. He glanced at his watch.

“Okay, I don’t know about you guys, but if you want me to be able to function to drive tomorrow – I’ve gotta get to bed.”

Sam nodded, looking up from where he and Mick were bent close together, going over an obscure lore book they’d found.

“Sure—Is Ketch sleeping with you or do you want me to set up one of the spare rooms?”  
“Uh—“ Dean looked over at Ketch, who was admiring one of the swords on display.

“Hm? Oh, I’ll just find some place to sleep, no need to go out of your way to set anything up.”

“You could sleep in my room, the bed’s big enough,” Dean offered, rubbing the back of his neck.

A slow smile spread across Ketch’s face. “Oh?”

“I mean—It—It’s… Just come on,” Dean finally grumbled, walking toward the hallway where their rooms were.

 

Mick smiled a little as he watched the two disappear. “You know they’re suited for each other.”

“I know it,” Sam admitted, “But Ketch is so—”

“Unstable?”

Sam shrugged, smiling apologetically.

“Oh you aren’t insulting me by stating it. It’s the truth. Mr. Ketch is one of our best hitmen. But to do the job that we have him do—One has to have a questionable mental state.”

“You say it like he’s not just a hunter.”

“He isn’t, Sam. Mr. Ketch is so much more than a hunter. You and Dean, you’re hunters. You can dig into the lore and you can speak to people and solve cases. Arthur Ketch is a killer. He can’t solve cases like you two do. He needs to be handed a file. A list of names to pick off like a to-do list. It’s how he functions. He’s unstable and he’s cruel and he’s downright scary. But we need men like him to do the jobs that we can’t, for whatever reason.”

Sam’s jaw twitched. “Why can’t you?”

Mick sighed, shutting the book and sitting down in the chair. He laced his fingers together on his stomach and looked up at Sam.

“Take the case I just worked with you two. Claire. Had Mr. Ketch been there, that girl would be dead right now. He has no sense of a grey area.”

“And you think he’s a good match for an actual case?” Sam hissed.

“I think he needs to _learn_. Just like I do. I feel like he can be taught. How to speak to people and how to see the grey area between good and evil as you boys do. It’s just going to take some time.”

“What’s his backstory? Why is he _like_ this?”

Mick sighed softly, looking toward the doorway Dean and Ketch had disappeared through.

“I don’t honestly know. I know a bit. What’s available in our employee records. But Mr. Ketch’s file is almost entirely blacklisted. No one but the Old Men can see what’s in the confidential parts of his folder.”

Sam sat down with Mick, leaning close to him. “What do they do to you? Why is he like this? Why are _you_ like this, Mick?”

“Like what?”

“Brainwashed.”

Mick scowled a little. “Brainwashed?”

“Just tell me, please, Mick. I can’t help you, or Ketch, if I don’t know what I’m working against. That’s what this is, isn’t it? You two aren’t working entirely on the side of the Brits, are you? They don’t see us as friends. Not yet. Not after what we’ve done.”

Mick sighed softly, his eyes looking anywhere but Sam’s face.

“We will keep you safe, Mick. Both of you. But you _need_ to let me in.”

Mick heaved a sigh. “Sam, letting you in could get you killed. I won’t have that on my conscience.”

“I’m a hunter, Mick. I could die tomorrow. I have died. So has Dean. We’ve seen so much in our lives—I’d rather go out knowing I was helping someone like you.”

“Sam—“

“Is it blackmail?”

“What? No. I’m a Legacy, the same as you. Through my father.”

“Then what are they holding over you two? What’s got you so scared to say no?”

“People who disobey the Old Men… Let’s just say they don’t get a second chance.”

“Torture.”

“And worse. You know what Lady Bevell did to you, Sam. That was just the tip of iceberg for what they do to dissenters _within_ the Chapter.”

Sam grimaced at the memory of what Toni put him through. “And they’d do that to you guys. If you said no to anything.”

“Precisely. You must understand, Sam. I care for you deeply. But I have to maintain a working relationship with the Old Men. If I don’t—If I were to openly defy them, if Mr. Ketch were to openly defy them—We would be tortured and killed in a manner that you could not even imagine.”

“I’ve been in the cage. With Lucifer. I think I can imagine,” Sam said softly then shook his head before Mick could apologize. “But that doesn’t matter. I get it. I understand. But you _have_ to tell Dean this. He thinks you’re playing both sides to screw us over. If you told him the truth, maybe—“

“He’d try to go after them.”

Sam sighed. “Right… He probably would,” He said, laughing without humor.

“I wasn’t lying when I said I believe that Mr. Ketch is a good fit for Dean. I’ve had to hold him back a few times myself from going after the Old Men. We aren’t strong enough, even with you two on our side.”

“What about the others we have on _our_ side? Crowley, Cas, Rowena—I know they’ve tangled with guys like this before and they’ve won.”

“Sam. I know you want to help. But I won’t sacrifice your life, or the lives of those near you. Not for this.”

Sam looked down at his lap. “What happens when the Old Men want more then? Want you to pick a side? What happens when they figure out that we aren’t playing their game?”

Mick said nothing until Sam looked up at him. Then he smiled.

“Then we make the tough choice. Then we choose.”

“And who will you choose?” Sam whispered, almost afraid to hear the answer.

Mick reached over, taking Sam’s hands. He gave them a firm squeeze, locking gazes with the hunter.

“You shouldn’t even need to ask that, Mr. Winchester. I’ve made my decision. And so has Mr. Ketch.”

Sam searched Mick’s face for any sign of lying. He smiled weakly and nodded. “I hope that’s true.”

Mick gave his hands another squeeze before leaning back and looking around the quiet library. “So—“

“Come to bed,” Sam said, rising. He offered his hand.

Mick smiled softly, taking it and allowing Sam to lead him to the bedroom.

 

Mick looked around while Sam stripped out of his clothes, a soft smile on his face.

“What?”

“It’s cozy.”

Sam snorted. “Enjoy it. Dean’s probably going to get us the _worst_ motel he can manage during this case… A little payback for the nice hotel.”

“Your brother has an odd sense of gratefulness.”

“My brother’s an ass. It’s part of his charm.”

Mick chuckled, slowly undoing the buttons of his shirt. “You lads are quite the interesting pair.”

Sam shrugged. “I guess. We’ve always just had each other.”  
Mick approached Sam, setting his hands on his shoulders. “You two needn’t be alone all the time now, I hope you know that.”

Sam smiled fleetingly. “I know. But—It’s who we are. Trust is hard.”

“I understand. I—“ A noise drew their attention to the doorway. Sam chuckled.

“Was that a—Moan?” Mick asked.

“Yeah, this bunker isn’t too soundproof. I can turn on the television if they get too loud.”

“Or,” Mick reached down, undoing Sam’s jeans for him, “We could just get louder.”

A smirk spread across Sam’s face, his tongue poking between his teeth. “Are you suggesting I _out moan_ my brother?”

Mick shrugged. “Mr. Ketch prides himself on being at the top of sexual prowess in our unit. I rarely have a chance to prove him wrong.”

Sam laughed softly, letting Mick push his jeans down his legs. His cock was already thickening, tenting the front of his boxers.

“Well if you do that… Finger thing you did again—you won’t have any problem proving him wrong.”

Mick smirked, palming Sam’s cock and making his eyes roll back in his head. “Shall we?”

Sam backed up and stripped out of the rest of his clothes, climbing onto the bed and snagging the lube. He set it on the pillow and settled down, one hand behind his head as he lazily stroked his cock to full hardness, watching Mick strip out of his own clothes.

“I do like the flannel on you. It’s sexy as hell.”

“I’m glad you approve. It is a bit itchy.”

“It takes getting used to. Don’t think you have to wear it if you hate it though, not for my benefit.”

“Well, knowing it arouses you does improve its use in my eyes,” Mick said, crawling over Sam’s larger body and leaning down to kiss him.

Sam slid his hands down Mick’s back, letting his short nails dig in just enough to earn a hiss.

“Are we feeling rough?” Mick asked, mouthing kisses down Sam’s neck.

Dean’s groan echoed through the hall and Sam smirked. “Rough will get me louder than him.”

“Point made.”

Mick leaned back and manhandled Sam onto his stomach, pushing at his thighs until Sam opened them wide enough for him to settle between them. He grabbed the lube and spread if over Sam’s entrance. Sam shut his eyes, sighing contentedly. He raised himself up on his knees to give Mick a better angle.

 

Slow and steady, Mick pressed his fingers in, dragging groans and pants out of Sam without even trying.

As if on cue, the louder Sam moaned, the louder Dean did. Each time, Mick increased the pace or angle of his fingers, driving Sam to make more noise.

Sam was writhing on Mick’s fingers, not bothering to hide his pleas in the pillow.

“Jesus, just _fuck_ me!” He groaned.

“Oh? I thought you preferred the teasing.”

“Don’t be a jackass – please,” Sam looked back at him, “I need it.”

Mick smirked a little, one eyebrow cocked.

“If you want… Still rough?”

Sam huffed and pushed his ass back against Mick’s hand.

“Do you even need to ask?”

“Bare?”

“Yes!” Sam cried, frustrated. Mick laughed a little, withdrawing his fingers and pressing a kiss to Sam’s sweat slicked spine.

“Patience, Mr. Winchester.”

Sam whined, reaching back and driving two fingers into himself. “Easy for you to say.”

“Not in the slightest. I’ve been thinking about you every spare minute since we parted. You have wormed you unbelievably large body into my mind and heart, it would seem.”

Sam stopped thrusting his fingers for a moment, turning to look back at Mick. The other had his head down, spreading lube slowly over his cock. Sam pulled his fingers free and turned, rising onto his knees. He grabbed Mick’s face and dragged him into a deep kiss. It wasn’t lusty or needy or anything even sexual. It was just—them.

Mick melted against him, setting his hands on Sam’s bare hips. He opened his mouth, allowing Sam’s tongue in to explore, their shallow breaths mixing hot between them. Sam dragged him down, not breaking the kiss. He let his fingers trace down Mick’s spine to his ass, squeezing gently before sliding between their bodies.

With a steadiness that surprised both of them, Sam grabbed Mick’s cock and shifted his hips up, pressing the blunt tip against his hole.

They moaned into one another’s mouths as Sam guided him in, wrapping his long legs around Mick’s thighs.

Mick pulled back when he was as deep as he could get from that position, looking down at Sam. Though they’d been having sex for a few weeks, they’d never done it from this position; Sam was always on his knees. This felt entirely different – more intimate somehow.

Mick’s mouth curled into a soft smile. “Be hard to go rough with you holding me like this.”

“Then don’t,” Sam whispered, “Just take me however you want.”

Mick reached up, stroking Sam’s hair behind his ear. He rose onto his knees and pulled Sam’s hips onto his thighs, pulling out almost all the way before sliding back in, slow and steady.

Sam’s head tipped back, exposing his throat as he moaned, grabbing Mick’s legs and squeezing gently.

“You are an incredible man, Sam,” Mick whispered as he thrust into Sam gently. Sam chuckled breathlessly.

“No need to butter me up, you’re already balls deep in my ass—Oh!”

They both chuckled a little at Sam’s exclamation. Mick drove in again at the same angle, earning another cry from the hunter under him.

“Just speaking my mind, Mr. Winchester,” Mick panted.

Sam huffed a laugh, moaning again and arching against him.

“You’re a flirt—Oh God, again, Mick, please—“ He panted brokenly.

Mick leaned over Sam’s body, bracing his hands on either side of Sam’s shoulders as he picked up his pace, driving hard and deep on each thrust. Sam let his legs fall open, pushing his feet flat on the bed to thrust upward against Mick’s body, holding onto his shoulders. 

 

Their moans blended with the two across the hall, the loudest the bunker had been in a long time.

Sam could barely hear his brother, too caught up in the feeling of Mick’s cock stretching him open in the best of ways. Mick’s fingers were biting bruises into his hips, his scruff scratching pleasantly against Sam’s sweat damp neck as he kissed and nipped it.

Mick grunted when Sam raked his nails down his back, arching against him with a loud cry of his name. He looked down at Sam, offering him an open mouthed smirk. 

Sam whimpered, clenching his ass. "I'm gonna c--come."

"Then come," Mick teased, slowing his thrusts down and twisting his hips. 

Sam growled his name, bucking up. “Come on, don’t tease me now. I know you wanna come, Mick—Just fuck me— _You_ come for me.”

Mick shivered, his cock giving a hard enough throb that Sam felt it. He smirked.

“Right—You and your love for my dirty mouth,” He panted.

Mick glared, pulling almost completely out and slamming back in. Sam screamed, digging his short nails into Mick’s ass. His back arched and he began to beg for more, screwing his eyes shut.

Mick obliged, picking up a brutal pace as Sam screamed the dirtiest things he could come up with in his pleasured state. It was only minutes more before Sam was coming, untouched between their stomachs. Mick managed to thrust in three more times before his orgasm hit and he stilled deep inside Sam, groaning long and low.

 

The next morning, Sam wandered into the kitchen after his shower, still sore and loose from the night before. Dean was sitting at the table, sipping coffee. Dean could see a deep bruise peeking out of the collar of his t-shirt.

“Someone sounded like they had a good night,” Dean mumbled, not looking up from the newspaper.

“Mm… Someone sounded like they were _trying_ to scream louder.”

“And succeeding,” Dean said. Sam rolled his eyes and poured himself a cup of coffee, sitting on the bench with a quiet groan.

“I’m not sure about that, Mr. Winchester – I seem to recall Sam making quite a bit more noise than you toward the end,” Mick said as he entered the kitchen, planting a kiss on Sam’s cheek.

Dean snorted. “You _would_ say that. What the hell were you doing to him anyway?”

Mick shrugged, getting a cup of coffee for himself. He grimaced visibly when he tasted it and grabbed their sugar, sitting next to Sam before adding it into the cup.

“I think he was fucking my brains out, Dean.”

Dean glared over at Sam, glancing up when Ketch entered, looking more put together than anyone else in the room. He walked over and squeezed Dean’s shoulder.

“What say you, Mr. Ketch. Which Winchester won last night’s little screaming match?” Mick asked. Sam’s eyebrows shot up at the almost _soft_ smile on Ketch’s face.

“I had the feeling you were trying to challenge me. I really couldn’t say though. I was a bit more interested in that act _itself_ than the noise outside the room.”

Sam chuckled into his cup. “Way to avoid admitting I won.”

“Not at all. I heard you quite well – I just didn’t care. My focus was on your brother.”

“Well,” Mick said, folding his hands around the cup, “I guess we’ll never know.”

“Or we’ll just have to try again,” Dean said, a slow smirk spreading across his face as he met Sam’s wide-eyed stare across the table.


	2. There's No Excuse

"He wanted us to leave him alone, Sam."

"I know but I just-- I have a bad feeling, okay?" 

Dean sighed softly and nodded, pressing his foot down a little harder on the gas as they headed toward the British Men of Letters base. 

 

Sam hopped out once they arrived, pressing his hand to the sign in. He scowled when it came back unregistered and leaned into Dean's open window. "There's something wrong. I'm hopping the fence."

Dean sighed again. "Ever think he's just not that into you?"

"I'm serious, Dean. Please?" Sam implored, giving Dean his best begging expression. Dean rolled his eyes and turned off the car. "Fine."

 

The brothers circled around the perimeter to avoid any cameras before climbing the fence. Dean grumbled about being too old for that sort of crap but Sam shushed him, pointing to the open window that led into the one of the private bunks.

 

“Stop, stop—Listen,” Dean whispered as he and Sam wandered through the empty halls. Shouldn’t  _someone_  be here? Their mom? Ketch? Sam pressed against his back, listening close. He could hear shouting coming from behind the closed door in front of them.

“That sounds like Mick but I don’t recognize the woman—Sounds British,” Sam whispered.

“Can you get into this?”

Sam nodded, stepping up to the lock on the door. “Yeah, Mick taught me how in case there’s a lockdown and I’m stuck in a hallway.” He dug in his pocket and snagged his wallet, pulling out a thin metal strip.

“What the hell is that?”

Sam shrugged. “Kind of a master key. Be ready.”

He waited until Dean drew his gun and thumbed the safety off before jabbing the metal strip into the underside of the lock box. The door beeped and slid open, both Winchesters diving in.

“… and I can see the choices—“

“Ketch put that down!” Dean snarled, drawing the attention of the three in the room to Sam and Dean.

Mick whipped around, bringing his arm up and knocking the gun out of Ketch’s hand.

“What the hell?”

“It’s my job, Mick. I’m sorry,” Ketch said, grabbing Mick’s coat lapels and shoving him backwards.

Sam went forward, barreling into Ketch to get him away from Mick. At the same time, Dean jumped onto the table, pointing his gun at the woman standing there.

“Who the hell are you?” He snarled. Her smile was snakelike.

“Dean Winchester, I presume.”

“Oh I know who I am, sweetheart. I asked who  _you_  were.”

“It’s Dr. Hess. Headmistress at Kendricks,” Mick said as he rose, using the table to pull himself up. Sam backed up, reaching out one hand and setting it on Mick’s arm, guiding him to his feet. The other, holding the gun, he kept trained on Ketch, pressed against the wall.

“Kendricks, great. Another fucking Brit. I’m getting  _real_  sick of you guys coming in and acting like you own the joint,” Dean snarled.

“Mr. Ketch,” Hess snapped, looking past Dean like he wasn’t present, “Dispose of these men. Now.”

Sam focused on Ketch once again, steadying his gun.

“Brother’s boyfriend or not – I will shoot you.”

“There’s a Code to be obeyed, Sam. You must understand,” Ketch said through gritted teeth.

“If Mick can take a step back so can you. You almost just shot your friend in cold blood – what kind of Code is that? That makes  _you_  a monster, Ketch,” Sam whispered.

“I—“

“He’s not wrong,” Dean said. His voice was thick and he didn’t look back at Ketch, keeping his gaze trained on Hess.

“You know, for all your talk about separating man from monster, Dr. Hess—You take real pleasure in greying that area. I didn’t realize that until I started working with Sam and Dean. You can take your Code and your rules and your arrogance, and you can shove it right up your ass,” Mick spat.

“You will be hunted down. You know we don’t take lightly to dissenters, Michael.”

“Try it. I dare you. All the training, all the preparations in the world don’t even scratch the surface of what Sam and Dean and their friends are capable of.”

Hess laughed icily. “And you think they’ll protect you? You’re a British Man of Letters. The very same that interrogated them and took away their dear Mommy. They’ll turn on you, mark my words.”

“They won’t.” Mick took a step back, setting his hand on Sam’s shoulder.

“You don’t have any idea what you’re doing, Michael.”

“They won’t turn on me because I’m not a Man of Letters anymore.” Mick ripped off the ring he’d worn since he graduated Kendricks and threw it down. It bounced and skidded off the floor, landing between Hess’ shoes. She looked down at it before looking up at him, her expression stoic.

“Then you will die. No one leaves the Men of Letters alive.”

“Try to hurt him,” Dean said softly, “and I will tear the skin off your face with my bare hands. If you send anyone after us, you’ll never hear from them again. Got me,  _bitch_?”

Hess grimaced, taking a step back.

“I suppose now you intend to kill me like the brutes you are?”

Dean shrugged. “Guess that depends. Mick, you wanna come over here and make sure she doesn’t run away? I have a bone to pick with our buddy.”

Mick walked up and allowed Dean to pass him the gun before climbing off the table. He hesitated and nodded, squeezing Mick’s shoulder before walking up to Ketch.

“How could you, man?”

“I was doing my job, Mr. Winchester.”

“And what job was that? What did she tell you to do?”

“Eliminate Mr. Davies if he didn’t agree to the plan.”

“Mm… And what was the plan?” Dean asked.

Ketch swallowed, glancing at the gun in Sam’s hand before looking at Dean. “To execute Eileen Leahy for the murder of a Man of Letters. And to—Bring the Winchester brothers in for a trial and execution if found guilty.”

Dean licked his lips, lowering his head a little. He laughed without humor.

“Awesome. Just—That’s just awesome. So. What happens if we let you go?”

“I—“

Dean raised his eyebrows, locking gazes with Ketch.

“Answer me. You gonna run off back to Britain? Or you gonna hunt us down and execute us like your owner says to? You gonna shoot me in the face, Ketch? Or—No, I guess you’d rather shoot me in the back.”

Dean turned and grabbed Ketch’s gun from the floor. He shoved it into Ketch’s hand and pressed the muzzle against his throat.

“Go ahead. Execute me.”

“Dean—“

“Shut up, Sam.”

“Dean, I—“

“What? Can’t shoot me while you’re looking at me? Weren’t those your orders?” Dean’s voice broke. He let go of the gun and Ketch’s hand began to shake, his eyes on the muzzle, pressed gently into Dean’s stubbled throat.

He shook his head and dropped the gun with a clatter.

“What are you doing, Mr. Ketch?  _Shoot_  him,” Hess cried.

“I apologize, Dr. Hess— I won’t shoot the Winchesters.”

“Are you  _disobeying_  me?”

Sam whipped around. “He’s not a dog! Neither is Mick. These are humans and so are we! If you wanna shoot us you’re no better than the monsters we hunt.”

“Sam,” Mick whispered, looking over at him.

Sam shook his head. “Come on, Mick. Come home with us.”

“What about her?” He jerked the gun a bit more in Hess’ direction and she flinched.

“Let her go,” Dean said. “We’re better than them.”

Sam walked up to Mick and gently pushed the gun down, taking it from his hand and passing it to Dean.

Mick backed out slowly with the Winchesters, not looking away from Ketch and Hess until the door shut.

 

Mick was silent on the drive back to the bunker. Sam glanced at him in the rearview every few minutes, unsure what to say – there was no way to make this better.

In the bunker, Sam guided Mick to their bedroom with no qualms, helping him strip down to just his t-shirt and boxers.

“Hey – Do you wanna take a shower?”

Mick shook his head, crawling into the bed and rolling so his back was to Sam.

“Hey—Wanna talk?” Sam asked.

“Not really.”

Sam sighed softly and stripped out of his clothes, crawling behind Mick. He wrapped his arm firmly around Mick’s waist, pressing a chaste kiss to his shoulder.

“You’re safe.”

“For how long?” Mick whispered.

“For as long as I’m around. And Dean—And we’re hard to kill, Mick, you know that.”

Mick laughed a little, pressing tighter against Sam.

“My whole life, I—I only had the Men of Letters. I don’t know what to do now that I don’t have that.”

“You have us, Mick. You’ve got a new family, and we won’t hurt you like they did.” He stayed silent for a moment. “Why did you lie to me? When I asked about how you got involved with them?”

Mick sighed. “I—I didn’t want you to know how much I owed them. I was afraid that you’d look down on me if I told you the truth.”

Sam sat up, pushing Mick onto his back and looking down at him. He smiled softly.

“Mick, you know what Dean I went through growing up. I would  _never_  judge you for having a bad past.”

Mick smiled weakly, reaching up and brushing his thumb over Sam’s cheekbone. “You are a better man than I, Mr. Winchester.”

Sam shook his head, setting his hand over Mick’s on his face.

“No. You didn’t know. You do now, and you came through. You made a promise to me, and you meant it, you kept your word even though it almost cost you your life. You are a  _great_  man, Mick.”

Mick’s small smile faded. He moved his hand over, surprised to see a tear rolling down Sam’s cheek.

“Why are you crying?”

“I—“ Sam laughed and backed up, pressing his thumb and forefinger against his closed eyes. “I don’t know. I—I got scared tonight. I almost lost you.”

“Sam, I would have deserved—I  _do_ deserve death. For everything I’ve done.”

“No!” Sam shook his head, looking at Mick again. “You don’t. Don’t think that way. You’re a good man. You made the right choice, and we will keep you  _safe_. I don’t care what it takes.”

“They’re going to send Mr. Ketch after us, Sam. You can’t murder him.”

“Why can’t he?” Dean’s voice startled them both. They looked over at Dean, standing in the doorway. He was carrying a tray loaded with sweets.

“Because you and he—“

“What we had was a lie. If he comes after us, I’ll put a bullet between his eyes, Mick. I promise you that. I said I was giving you a second chance. And you proved yourself, buddy. Scoot over.”

Mick looked up at Sam for a moment, confused. Sam shrugged and scooted to the edge of the bed, allowing Mick to press against him. Dean walked over and set the tray on the bedside stand before grabbing some DVD’s hidden underneath the candy.

“Uh—I don’t know what you like, Mick, so I grabbed a bit of everything,” He said haltingly before passing the DVD’s to Mick.

“What is this, Dean?” Mick asked softly. Dean rubbed the back of his neck.

“You’re one of us now, I guess. A peace offering. And—You almost died tonight—Sticking up for us. That—I wanna say thanks. But I don’t think I can drink with you again, you almost killed me before.”

Mick laughed a little – a real laugh that made Sam grin. He looked up at Dean and nodded gratefully. Dean smirked at his brother.

“Dean, you— _hate_  documentaries like this,” Sam commented, pulling a DVD about the colonization of America out of the stack Mick was holding.

“Yeah, but I know you nerds love it. And this isn’t for me, it’s for Mick.”

Mick smiled a little, blinking away tears that threatened to fall. He’d never felt so  _welcomed_. Even with the Men of Letters—This was what friendship felt like.

“Here. Something I think the three of us can all appreciate.” He held up one of the DVD’s and Dean grinned.

“My opinion of you is getting better and better.” Dean said, snagging it and going over to Sam’s tv.

“What’d you choose?” Sam whispered.

“A Bit of Fry and Laurie. I’ve a feeling he only put it in the stack because it’s about as British as he could get.”

Sam chuckled and Dean looked back. “I can hear you.”

“Well? Was I correct?”

Dean smiled a little and shrugged, putting the DVD in and walking back to the bed. “Yeah, actually. I didn’t know if you’d like the more… American stuff. But I do like it.”

“Well I appreciate the effort, Mr. Winchester.”

“Yeah, quit being a sap, here.” Dean sat down next to Mick and passed him a foaming glass. Mick stared at it.

“What is this?”

“You’ve never had a root beer float?” Sam asked, his eyebrows raised. Mick shook his head slowly.

“Dude—Were you living under a rock?”

“I was living in a highly-educated society across an ocean, Sam.”

Dean snorted. “Just try it. It’s just vanilla ice cream and soda.”

“You—Why did you mix those?”

“It’s a drink we have here.”

Mick furrowed his brows before taking a tentative sip out of the straw. His eyes widened and he coughed a little, passing the glass to Sam.  
“I’m sorry – That’s awful.”

“Dude it’s  _amazing_ ,” Dean argued, taking a big drink of his own.

“It’s a mouthful of cavities in a glass.”

“That’s what makes it so good,” Dean said, garbled around the mouthful of soda and melted ice cream.

Mick grimaced, laughing a little. “Whatever you say, Mr. Winchester. Thank you anyways, for attempting.”

Dean shrugged. “Your loss. Want a beer instead?”

“Sure, I can get it though.” Mick wiggled out from between the brothers and padded out of the room.

“Thank you, Dean,” Sam said softly, staring into the cup as he stirred the ice cream around.

“For what?”

“Trying to be nice to Mick. This—He’s trying to hide it but this really messed with him. That was the only family he’s ever known.”

“And he lost ‘em. For us. That’s big, Sam. It’s saying something. He deserves my trust after this.”

“Yeah, I just—I wish I could do more for him.”

“You got him here. You kept him from killing Eileen. And we’ll keep him safe. That’s all we can do.”

 _“Sam! Dean!”_  Mick’s panicked voice echoed through the bunker.

Sam and Dean jumped up, setting their drinks aside. Sam snagged his gun as they passed his desk, running out.

“Mick!” Sam shouted.

Mick was standing in the library, looking up at the entrance. The brothers looked up as well and Sam raised his gun.

Ketch was standing on the balcony, staring down at the three.

“What are you doing here, Ketch?” Dean snarled, backing up to the table and grabbing a gun strapped underneath.

“Don’t shoot.”

“We warned that bitch if she sent anyone we’d kill them. That includes you.”

“Dr. Hess didn’t send me. I’m not here to fight.”

“Then why are you here? You aren’t welcome here, Ketch,” Dean snapped. Ketch winced a little, taking a few steps toward the stairs. Dean cocked his gun, training it on Ketch.

“I wouldn’t fucking move.”

Ketch raised his hands, stopping. “I snuck out of the base. To come and warn you all.”

“Warn us about what?” Mick asked. He was standing close to Sam, searching for a weapon of some sort.

“Dr. Hess is not stopping her pursuit of you. And she’s increased the directive.”

“What does that mean?” Sam asked.

“What’s the new directive, Mr. Ketch?” Mick asked, ignoring Sam for the moment. Ketch looked down before sighing.

“My orders are to exterminate every American hunter that exists. Without trial. Without bias. And without hesitation. Including Sam and Dean. And—Now you, Mick.”

“So, we should just shoot you, save us all some trouble,” Dean said, steadying the gun.

“She’d only send more like me. Worse than me, because they won’t have created a relationship with your family. They won’t hesitate like I did at the base. She already has a shattered trust in me, and that’s what else I came to warn you about.”

“What?”

“Dr. Hess is calling for Lady Bevell once again. To exterminate the Winchesters—Because I was unable to.”

Both Dean and Mick turned to Sam at the mention of Toni’s name. His jaw was clenched, the muscle twitching ever so gently. Aside from the tension – Sam’s face gave away no emotion. He let his eyes slide slowly back up to Ketch.

“Let her come,” He whispered.

“Sam—“

“No, Dean. We let her go once. She comes after us again – I’ll shoot her in the face myself.”

Ketch smiled a little. “I would take great pleasure in seeing that.”

“You shut up,” Dean snapped.

Ketch sighed, the smile fading. “I know I made a mistake, Dean. And it’s one I have to live with. But I came here peacefully and I—I’d just like to try and begin making amends. I care for you more than you could ever know.”

“Right. Is that why you slept with his Mother?” Mick asked. Dean’s head whipped around, wide eyes trained on Mick.

“He screwed my  _mom_?”

“Oh yes. Just yesterday. I was given explicit orders not to tell you, but I don’t take orders from that lot anymore.”

Dean’s Adam’s apple bobbed up and down. He turned back to Ketch, pain twisting his face into an ugly sneer.

“Dean—It meant nothing. I had an order. I had to follow through,” Ketch tried to explain.

“An order? To sleep with my  _mom_?” Dean blinked then, realization coming over his face. “Was I just an order too? Get the dumb hunter into bed and he’ll trust you, Arthur. Fuck him stupid and he’ll obey you like a puppy?”

“No.” Ketch raised a finger, shaking his head rapidly. “You weren’t an order. What you and I formed was real. Dr. Hess would have me executed if she knew what we are.”

“What are we, Ketch?” Dean whispered. His voice was thick with emotions he was trying to hide.

“We—I believed just a few days ago that we were dating. That you cared for me in the way I cared for you,” Ketch whispered, looking at his shoes.

Dean snorted, lowering his gun. He shook his head. “You don’t care for anything. You’re no better than the monsters you kill. Get the fuck out of here, Ketch.”

“Dean, please—“

“Get out! Before I show you how much of a monster I can be!” Dean roared, raising the gun. He fired off a single shot into the concrete near Ketch’s head, making the man drop to his knees.

Sam rushed over, grabbing the gun out of Dean’s hands. He passed it to Mick before pulling Dean into a hug.

Mick trained the gun on Ketch, stepping in front of the brothers. “You destroy everything you touch, Mr. Ketch. You did it back at Kendricks when we were boys, and you do it now. I won’t stand by and let you destroy the Winchesters. Not as long as I’m breathing. Get out.”

Ketch rose and opened his mouth to speak again.

“I said  _get out_!” Mick roared, “I won’t be so kind as to give you a warning shot.”

Ketch’s shoulders sagged. He looked at Dean once more, his face buried in Sam’s shoulder, before lowering his head and walking out, defeat heavy in his gait.

 

When the door shut, Mick set the gun on the table and set his hand on Dean’s back. “Hey, you’re okay, Mr. Winchester. He’s gone.”

“I don’t care about that,” Dean muttered, pushing away from Sam. He blinked a few times, successfully erasing the pain that was previously on his face.

“Dean—I know you cared about him. It’s okay to hurt,” Sam said softly.  
“He was a good fuck. That’s it. Come on. We should get some rest if we’re going to be fighting half the British psychos this week.”

Dean turned and walked off before Sam could argue.

Mick reached out, taking his hand. “This hurts Dean, doesn’t it?”

Sam wet his lips, nodding. “Dean doesn’t let people in. He was starting to trust Ketch. He was starting to fall for him. This is just going to make him hate again.”

“Don’t let it. Hate—Anger—That’s what turned Mr. Ketch into the monster he is now. Your brother is too good for that road.”

“What can I do? Dean’s just gonna shut me out.”

Mick smiled a little, reaching up and stroking his thumb over Sam’s cheek. “I tried to shut you out too, Sam. Don’t let him. Go to him.”

“But you—“

“I’ll be fine. I have the Winchesters on my side now.”

Sam smiled gratefully. He pulled Mick into a hug, pressing a deep kiss to his mouth.

“You’re perfect,” He whispered against Mick’s lips.

Mick chuckled and pulled back, squeezing Sam’s biceps. “Says my knight in shining armor tonight. Go to your brother.”

Sam smiled a little and walked toward Dean’s room. He sighed when he reached the doorway. Dean was little more than a lump under his blankets, a lamp splashing shadows and light across the room.

“Go away,” Dean mumbled without turning to face Sam.

“Nope.” Sam climbed onto the bed and set his hand on Dean’s shoulder.

“I don’t wanna talk about it, Sammy.”

“You don’t have to. But you gotta know you’re not alone, Dean. I’m still here.”

“Yeah, and you have Mick.”

“So? You’re my brother.”

Dean shook his head, shrugging Sam’s hand off his shoulder. “Go to bed.”

“No.” Sam kicked the covers down and stretched out next to Dean. He rolled over, scowling.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Proving to my big brother that he’ll never lose me. No matter if I have a boyfriend or not.”

“So you’re sleeping with me?”

Sam shrugged, looking over at Dean. “If that’s what it takes.”

“Dude—We haven’t slept in the same bed for years.”

Sam shrugged again. “You don’t wanna talk, you won’t believe me. So—This should make you believe me.”

“You’re being weird,” Dean grunted, but rolled back over and flipped the lamp off. Sam smirked a little in the dark.

“If you do wanna talk, Dean—I understand this situation better than you think.”

Dean snorted. “And what situation is that?”

“Finding out someone you had – have – feelings for is a monster.”

“I don’t have feelings for Ketch.”

“You’re a shitty liar. I know what it looks like when you’ve got it bad for someone, I grew up with you, man.”

Dean was silent for a while before speaking, softly enough that Sam had to strain to hear him.

“I just can’t believe he’d do that. I know we weren’t – really dating or anything but – I feel like a moron.”

“You let yourself care about him, Dean. That’s human.”

“I shouldn’t have. He’s a monster.”

Sam rolled to his side, wrapping his arm around Dean’s stomach. He nuzzled the back of his neck for a moment. “You didn’t know. You just trusted him. That’s not bad… I don’t think he meant to hurt you.”

Dean snorted. “Well, he did. Get off me, huh? I just wanna sleep.”

“Want me to stay?” Sam asked, backing off Dean a little. It was quiet again, and Sam sighed, sitting up to get out of the bed.

“Sammy?”

“What?”

“I—I wouldn’t mind you staying, if Mick won’t care.”

“Mick’s okay. I’ll stay.” He laid back down, listening to his breath even out as he fell asleep. There had to be some way to make this right.


	3. Blurred Lines

Mick stood in the doorway, listening to the brothers talk about Dagon, Cas, and general things. It’d been a week wince he’d taken up a permanent residence in the bunker, and he still felt out of place.

Dean had been nothing but kind to him – much to Mick’s surprise, and of course Sam was doing his best to make Mick feel welcome. But this was all so different. He felt like he was intruding on a special part of the Winchester Life, and wished there was another way.

Steeling himself, he rounded the corner with a tray of coffee. “Morning, lads.”

Dean looked up from cleaning one of the guns. “Mornin’. How was your night? As  _interesting_  as Sammy’s?”

Mick chuckled, passing Dean his coffee, then Sam.

“I’d say remarkably less, oh—“ He jumped a little when Sam leaned his head up, pressing a kiss to his neck. “Well good morning.”

Sam smiled, taking a sip of his coffee before turning his attention back to the laptop in front of him.

“I attempted to assist Sam here with the research, but he’d rather work it alone,” Mick continued, taking a seat next to Sam.

“Well that’s Sam for ya. Stubborn as a mule,” Dean teased, earning a bitchface from his brother.

“But, I did find a possible case,” Mick began cautiously, flushing a little when both brothers looked at him.

“You—Found a case? Without the Men of Letter’s help?” Sam asked.

Mick cocked an eyebrow, looking over at him. “I am capable of reading a website, Sam.”

“Sorry,” Sam said sheepishly. Mick smiled and shrugged.

“No harm done. But here.” He pulled out his phone and opened it, passing it over to Dean.

Dean read through it, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah, could be a case. What do you think, Sam?”

Sam took the phone and read through the article, pushing out his lips and making a noise of approval.

“Good work Mick, that sounds like our kinda thing. You wanna come?”

“If you’ll have me,” Mick said, holding his coffee cup close to him like a shield.

“Gotta learn sometime. Just follow our lead, okay?” Dean asked. Mick nodded eagerly.

“Of course. Consider me a hunter-in-training.”

“Alright then, hunter-in-training, we’ll leave in an hour. I gotta get something to eat and I think Sam needs a shower,” Dean said, a smirk growing on his face.

“What? I—“ Sam looked down and sniffed himself, blushing a little.

“Yeah, I’ll just take a quick shower.” He snapped the laptop shut and rose, taking a big drink of coffee. “Wanna join me, Mick?” He offered.

“What? I—“ Mick glanced over at Dean, who was shaking his head, chuckling a little.

“Um… Sure.”

Sam grinned. “Wait for you in the bathroom,” He said before heading off toward their room.

Mick rose, finishing his coffee. Dean cleared his throat.

“Hey—You know you don’t have to do this stuff,” He said quietly.

“Do what?”

“Make us coffee and find us cases. You’re not our servant boy. Though having a British butler would make me feel rich—You’re here because we want you here. You helped us out.”

Mick sighed a little, tapping his fingers on the table. “Am I that obvious?”

“Little bit, dude. I think when you did my laundry was when it really gave you away.”

“I just wanna feel like a part of the team.”

Dean stood and circled the table, setting his hands on Mick’s shoulders.

“You gave up your whole life for Sam. And me by extension. You might not know much, but you’re willing to learn. And I honestly haven’t seen Sam so happy in years. You’re a part of the team, Mick. Our ragtag, half assed, not entirely human team – you’re on it, okay? As much as I like having a servant around, I’d rather you be comfortable here.”

Mick smiled softly, his eyes watering a little at Dean’s words. “Thank you.”

Dean rolled his eyes, one corner of his mouth lifting up in a smirk. “Don’t start cryin’ on me. Go. I’m sure Sam’s waiting for you.”

Mick nodded, rushing past Dean and down the hall toward the bedrooms.

 

***

 

Sam could feel Mick watching him in the hotel room. Finally, he looked over. “What’s wrong?”

“Are you concerned about Dean?” Mick asked.

Sam huffed a laugh. “Not so much, why?”

“I worry he’s taking the breakup with Mr. Ketch a little harder than he’s letting on.”

“Yeah, he could be. But—This is how Dean copes. He gets lost in women or alcohol or fights. Honestly, if he’s going to have unhealthy coping mechanisms… I’ll take him screwing waitresses all week over the other options.”

Mick nodded, looking down at his hands. Sam’s eyes narrowed. He rose and sat on the bed across from Mick.

“What else is going on?”

“What? Nothing.”

“No, I know when you’re lying. You have tells. What’re you hiding, Mick?”

Mick grimaced, looking up at Sam. “Don’t hate me.”

“What did you do?”

Mick swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He looked anywhere but at Sam before drawing in a ragged breath. “I didn’t find this case on my own.”

“Who helped you?” Sam asked cautiously.

“Mr. Ketch.”

Sam sat up a little straighter, squeezing his knees until his knuckles were white. He wet his lips, pressing them together to form a fine line. After a few moments he spoke softly,

“Why didn’t you just tell us?”

“I wanted to. But—I was scared,” Mick admitted.

“Of what?”

“You lads have been nothing but kind to me since the whole thing went down with Mr. Ketch and Dr. Hess. I was afraid if you learned I’d still been communicating with Mr. Ketch that you’d—Kick me out or something.”

“How long have you been talking to him, Mick?”

Mick closed his eyes. He could see the hurt in Sam’s face, and it stung him to the core. “He called me the day after you two rescued me. Told me he understood why I did what I did and that he wanted to help us keep one step ahead of the Men of Letters. But he knew you and Dean would never accept his help after what he did to you—“

“To  _you_ , Mick. He tried to  _kill_  you.”

“He was under orders. You don’t know what it’s like, Sam – the Men of Letters – if we disobey we’re tortured or killed or worse. Mr. Ketch had no choice. I understand that and I forgive him.”

“But you know we’re not as forgiving.”

“For good reason. After what Lady Bevell did to you, and what you’ve seen us do—But Mr. Ketch is a good man. He’s one of my closest friends, Sam. He  _wants_  to get out. He wants to help us. He – He misses Dean.”

Sam’s jaw twitched a little. He looked down at his hands. “Okay, fine. Why did Ketch give you this case?”

“They intend to bug the bunker. Dr. Hess instructed him to meet with me and tell me that they were forgiving my transgressions, allowing me back into the fold on probationary terms, so long as I got you lads to obey. The plan was to get me to say yes to the terms, give you boys the case, and give them time to search and bug the bunker, to make sure we’re all playing ball.”

Sam nodded. “Okay, so when we get back to the bunker—“

“It will be bugged. We can’t let them know that we know – it’ll but Mr. Ketch in danger and I don’t think we’ll be able to save him like you two were able to with me. They won’t make the same mistake. He’ll be taken somewhere off the grid and executed.”

“Alright. We need to tell Dean.”

Mick tensed a little and Sam raised his hand. “Mick – we can’t keep this from him. The Men of Letters think you and Ketch are playing their game. We all need to play along. Dean included. Even if he’s mad – he’ll understand.”

Mick nodded, chewing the inside of his lip.

“So what’s their next move? After all this?”

“I’m not sure. Mr. Ketch doesn’t know either. They’re not telling him a lot because of his refusal to kill you two last week. He’s keeping me updated when he finds out things.”

“How do we know his phone isn’t bugged? If they don’t trust him—“

“We don’t.”

Sam sighed softly, staring at the ratty green carpet between his feet. “We need to get him out.”

“But Dean—“

“I know. I know, we have to talk to Dean. He’s mad, and he doesn’t handle this stuff well.”

“He cared for Mr. Ketch.”

“Still does,” Sam whispered.

“Perhaps we can use that to our advantage. Dean is an emotional man. He prides himself on being strong, but he lets his emotions get in the way of rational thought, especially when someone he cares for is in danger.”

Sam chuckled. “Trust me, I know.”

“So perhaps we use that. If he cares for Mr. Ketch as deeply as we think he does, perhaps his anger won’t stop him from letting us help, provided he knows I’ve forgiven him.”

Sam nodded. “Maybe. It’s worth a shot. We can’t do anything tonight though, I don’t think Dean’s planning on stumbling in until tomorrow. He texted me to meet him at the diner tomorrow morning, so…”

“So we should get some rest. Perhaps not speak to him about this until after the case. If this creature is as deadly as it seems – we can’t afford to have him distracted.”

Sam looked up at Mick and smiled softly. “Thank you for telling me. I know it couldn’t have been easy.”

“It was much harder hiding it from you,” Mick admitted. Sam smiled a little wider and rose, leaning down to press a kiss to Mick’s mouth.

“Let’s go to bed.”

 

***

 

Sam glanced at Mick in the rearview mirror. They were on their way back to the bunker after the case.

“So, Dean… We’ve got a confession to make,” Sam began. Dean glanced at him from the corner of his eye.

“You didn’t bone in my bed, did you?”

“What? No.” Sam chuckled.

“Okay—What?”

“The case – the one we worked. It uh—Mick didn’t find it,” Sam said slowly.

“Who did?”

“Mr. Ketch,” Mick said softly. Dean’s hands tightened on the wheel, his jaw clenching visibly.

“How did  _you_  get ahold of it?”

“He called me. And we met up. Dean—I know you’re angry, but please, listen—“

“He tried to kill you, Mick! Don’t be stupid!”

“Dean, please—“ Sam said softly.

“No! After what these sons of bitches did to you and Mick and  _mom_ , you still wanna work with them?”

“No! And neither does Ketch!” Sam cried.

“Coulda fooled me.”

“Just hear him out, Dean. Please.”

Dean sighed, glancing at Mick in the rearview. “Fine. Talk.”

Mick sighed. He explained as quickly as he could, the meeting with Ketch, the Men of Letters plan, everything. When he was finished, he hung his head, leaning back on the seat.

“I’m sorry, Dean. I didn’t want to keep it from you and neither did Mr. Ketch but he knew you’d be too angry to listen to him.”

“Damn straight. He fucked with us all and you guys are just willing to forgive and forget.”

“No, we aren’t. But Mr. Ketch doesn’t want to be a part of that anymore. I believe him. Being with you – He cares for you, Dean. More than I’ve ever seen him care for anyone. You must believe that’s real, I know you care for him too.”

“Yeah, and look where that got me,” Dean muttered.

Sam sighed. “Please, Dean. I know this is hurting you. Please, just… Hear him out, and lets see where this goes.”

“Fine. Okay, so the Bunker is bugged. What do we do?”

“We play along. Pretend everything’s normal,” Mick said.

“For how long?”

“Until Mr. Ketch can give us more information about the Men of Letter’s plans.”

“Right, so we’re working for them again.”

“No. We’re working  _with_  Ketch,” Sam explained.

“I don’t like it, Sam.”

“I know. We know. But – Please, Dean. You trusted me before. Trust me now. Trust Mick.”

Dean glanced over at Sam, then back at Mick. He chewed his lip for a second before nodding once.  
“Fine. But same rules apply. The _minute_  something seems fishy – we’re out.”

“Deal,” Sam said. Mick nodded.

“Understood.”

They were all silent for a moment until Dean chuckled. “You know what you two should do—“

“What?” Sam asked. He knew that tone.

“Figure out where the bugs are and fuck really loud right next to them.”

“Dean!” Sam cried, his cheeks pinking immediately. From the backseat, Mick chuckled, earning a frustrated glare from Sam. “Don’t encourage him.”

“Well, it would give them something interesting to listen to, now wouldn’t it?”

“Mick,” Sam pleaded. Dean laughed.

“Oh come on, Sammy. You could crack glass when you really get going with those screams, trust me. Bet they’d be  _real_  reluctant to listen after hearing you beg to come a couple of times.”

Sam slumped down in the seat, his knees banging against the dash.

“I hate you both so much.”

“But that’s not a no,” Dean said, smirking. “I expect to hear you begging all over the bunker, Sammy.”

“You wanna hear it so bad, you do it,” Sam mumbled.

“I don’t think Mick would appreciate me making a move on him, Sam.”

Sam grunted, looking out the window. When Mick didn’t protest, Dean looked back at him.

“You dirty bastard.”

Mick shrugged. “I’m simply a man that can appreciate the good looks and pleasant personality of another man.”

“You wanna have a threesome with brothers.” Dean pushed, and Sam sank lower in his seat. Mick chuckled.

“Now, I never said that.”

“But you were thinking it. You dirty little pervert. You wanna see me and Sam get it on, don’t you?”

“Dean—“ Sam pleaded, as low as he could get in the car – nearly sitting on the floorboard at this point.

“Aw, I think I embarrassed him. But the question still stands, Mick. Tell the truth now, lying’s a sin.”

Mick was quiet for a moment, glancing at Sam then over at Dean.

“Fine. Yes, it would be entertaining, I think. Happy now, Mr. Winchester?”

Dean laughed loudly, smacking the steering wheel and Sam groaned, burying his face in his hands.

 

***

 

Sam stepped up behind Mick, leaning over the table in the library. He kissed the back of his neck. “What’re you looking at?”

“This – You two did this?” Mick said, pointing to the carving of their initials. Sam smiled a little, running his thumb over Dean’s initials.

“Yeah, when you were showering when we got back. We did it in the back of the Impala when we were kids. Our way of kinda… Making a place our home. Leaving our mark.”

“That’s beautiful, Sam.” Mick turned in Sam’s arms, looking up at him. Sam shrugged.

“Just brother stuff.”

Mick put his finger to his lips and pointed to the table. Sam nodded, understanding – a bug. He smirked then.

“So Dean’s sleeping.”

“Oh? Doesn’t surprise me – that God did a number on him.”

“Mm..” Sam slid his hands down to Mick’s hips and around to his ass, giving a gentle squeeze.

Mick smirked. “Really?”

Sam shrugged. “It’s our home too.” He kissed Mick hard, kicking the chair out and settling into it. Mick went with him, settling onto his lap in their kiss.

“What if Dean comes out?” Mick murmured when Sam began to undo the buttons of his shirt.

“Then he’ll get an eyeful. He started this – not my fault we took him up on it.”

Mick laughed a little. It was going to be a  _fun_  week.


	4. Working Together

Sam jumped a little when Dean slammed his bedroom door shut. Mick looked over, reaching out and squeezing his shoulder.

“What do we do?”

“I don’t know, Mick. I’m lost,” Sam admitted.

Mick sat quietly, waiting for him to continue. Sam ran his fingers over the initials in the table, chewing his lip.

“You know – Cas has done this before, I mean, years ago, he—When he worked with Crowley for the souls in Purgatory. Letting them out, the Leviathans – lying to us – but we thought we were all past that. Honesty  _works_. We need it to—“ He sighed softly. “I don’t know how we’re going to come back from this.”

“You will. You always do, Sam. You and your brother are strong men.”

“But Cas—“

“We can figure something out. I promise, I will not stop until I figure out a way to help him.”

Sam looked over at Mick, smiling sadly. He pulled him into a tight hug, nosing against the crook of his neck.

“Thank you,” He whispered, his voice muffled by Mick’s shirt.

Mick rubbed his back gently. “Come on, we’ll grab some beers and get Dean to come into our room. Try to get his mind off things.”

Sam nodded and rose, fixing his shirt. He blinked a few times, and Mick knew he’d never admit he was close to tears at that point.

 

They managed to convince Dean to come into their room – only because it was the one room without a bug, Ketch had told Mick a few days prior. The entire ordeal with Cas and Kelly had done a number on the brothers – Mick knew they both needed support and a friendly shoulder. So they were in the one safe room, crowded into Sam’s bed. They were watching some true crime show on Netflix – Mick wasn’t sure what was even going on, but the brothers seemed content, and that was what mattered.

Mick was on Sam’s right side, Dean on the left, so when Dean finished his beer, Mick hopped up and took the bottle.

“I’ll get us another round.”

“Thank you,” Sam said, offering a soft smile. He watched Mick leave before turning to Dean. “So?”

“So what?” Dean asked, not taking his eyes from the screen.

“Cas.”

“Cas lied to us. And I don’t know what’s going on now. He’s like—“

“Like he was when we first met him. Or when he had the Leviathans in him.”

“Crazy.”

“And not in the fun, let’s play Twister and get a cat way,” Sam added. Dean snorted.

“Yeah – I’d take that Cas over this one any day.”

“Maybe the baby is brainwashing him or something,” Sam offered.

Dean shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. He’s dangerous and now he’s protecting that thing. The grace extraction is the best bet we have and they’re both too blind to see it. You remember what happened last time he was like this and we stuck our necks out.”

Sam snorted. “Do I ever.”

Dean shook his head. “I don’t know, man. I mean I get that he wants a win – but you’d think he’d be smart enough to know that we all win more when we work together. Lying and stealing and—God knows what else—It’s just gonna get us hurt in the long run. We can’t let this go.”

“That baby can’t be born full power.”

Dean nodded in agreement.

“Perhaps there’s something in the library that can assist us?” Mick offered. He’d entered a few seconds prior, listening to the brothers talk.

“Maybe, but we’ve scoured the library for information on Nephilim.”

“A second look couldn’t hurt. I’ll start tonight, after you lads go to bed.”

“No, Mick you don’t have to do that,” Sam argued.

“I want to. I couldn’t be there for you when you dealt with this. Let me make it up to you, okay?”

Sam smiled softly and nodded, taking the beer Mick held out and passing it to Dean.

Mick’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled it out, scowling a little.

“It’s Mr. Ketch.”

“Could be a case,” Sam said.

“That’s the last thing you lads need.”

“That’s  _exactly_  what we need,” Dean argued. “Something to take my mind off this Cas shit.”

Mick sighed a little but nodded. “Okay.” He answered it, “Davies.”

Sam watched Mick’s expression shift from boredom to concern to an almost loving expression. He chuckled a little and held out the phone.

“It’s for you, Dean.”

“Me?” Dean glared at the phone. “I don’t wanna talk to that dick.”

“Dean, please. You said you were willing to help him. Let him help you.”

Dean glared again before grabbing the phone, standing and walking over to the corner of the room before putting it to his ear.

“What?”

 _“Dean—_ “ Ketch’s voice was quiet, breathy.  _“I was scared you wouldn’t speak to me.”_

“Yeah well, I didn’t want to. What do you want?”

_“I heard. What happened with the angel. I wanted to say I was sorry. I know you and Castiel are friends and I—“_

“I don’t need your pity. Do you have a case for us or not?”

_“No. Not as of yet. But, I have something that may help you with the angel situation.”_

“How? It just happened.”

Ketch chuckled.  _“The bugs are quite useful, and Mick filled me in with what I didn’t catch. There’s a weapon. To use against angels.”_

“I’m not killing Cas!” Dean snapped.

“ _No, you misunderstand, Dean. It doesn’t kill them. It shuts down their powers. For as long as you need. Permanently, if you wish, or temporarily – just long enough to get Kelly away from him to do the grace extraction.”_

“You think that’s a good idea?”

 _“The British chapter refined the ritual that the American Men of Letters has. We have a safer way. I can help_.”

Dean was quiet for a moment, studying the cracks in Sam’s wall. “How? Won’t Hess kill you if she finds out you’ve been working with us? What if your phone is bugged?”

 _“This isn’t my phone. It’s a… I believe you lads call it a burner phone. Mick provided it for me when we made the decision to all work together. And she will – but I feel the time has come to choose my side and I have chosen the Winchesters, Dean. I have chosen_ you _.”_

Dean swallowed hard, unsure what to say. Seeming to sense this even through the phone, Ketch continued,

_“Meet me, please?”_

“Where?”

 _“The bar. Near the bunker. I know you know which one I’m talking about.”_  Dean smiled a little.

“Couldn’t forget if I wanted to,” he admitted.

_“I’ll be there in half an hour.”_

Dean bit his lip, glancing back at Sam and Mick, who were both staring at him.

“So will I – But so will Sam and Mick.”

_“Understood. That’s perfectly acceptable. I’ll see you soon, Mr. Winchester.”_

“See ya, Ketch.” Dean hung up and passed the phone back to Mick. “Get dressed. We’re going to bar. Ketch thinks he’s got a way to save Cas, and Kelly.”

Sam’s eyebrows shot up. “Seriously?”

Dean nodded. “I don’t know if I’m ready to accept it, but we need a win. Least we can do is hear him out.”

 

The bar was mostly deserted by the time the three arrived. Dean glanced around, his heart giving an involuntary little flutter when he saw Ketch, back to the door. He was wearing his regular leather jacket, a pair of dark jeans barely visible with the way he was sitting. Taking a deep breath, Dean led the group up to him, taking a seat on the stool next to him.

“Ketch.”

Ketch looked over and smiled softly. “Dean. I’m glad you lads came.” He looked up and nodded to Sam and Mick.

“Perhaps we should secure a booth. Go ahead, I’ll get us a round of drinks.”

Dean nodded and rose, motioning with his head for the other two to follow him to a quiet booth in the back, mostly shielded from the view of the main floor, though the door and bar itself were still visible. He stood until Ketch came back, making him slide in first before taking his own seat on the outermost corner. Ketch passed glasses of whiskey to each man before clearing his throat.

“Mick. Do you remember the Angelus Devictus Project?”

Mick nodded. “Vaguely. It was in the works when you and I were still at Kendricks. I thought it was shut down because of that… Accident.”

Ketch chuckled. “The unfortunate intern that lost his head? Yes. It was. But it was restarted when we began to hear whispers of angels returning. They’ve perfected it.”

“Is it here?”

“No, of course not – the Old Men wouldn’t trust us with something like that. But I have the blueprints for it. And I believe, with a little work, we could make our own. One that would work against Castiel.”

“Would it hurt him?” Sam worried. Ketch shook his head.

“No. All this does is disable their powers. It’s a sort of… I’m not sure what you would call it, pulls their grace out, makes them human. Gives us a way to kill them without the use of an angel blade.”

“Why not just keep the grace and let them live as a human?” Sam pressed. Ketch grimaced.

“That way of thinking is out of line with the Men of Letters, Sam. You should know that. But I agree – it would be efficient.”

Sam nodded. Dean spun his glass on the table, staring into the liquid.

“So how do we do this? The bunker is bugged, you’ve probably got watchdogs… How do we keep the Brits from figuring out you’re helping us?”

“There’s the rub. There won’t be a way,” Mick said, meeting Ketch’s eyes. He nodded in agreement.

“He’s correct. To complete this weapon – we will need all the resources available in your bunker. Meaning I will need to make my presence known there. And will be found out.”

“Why don’t we just get the stuff for you? Give us a list and we can gather it and go somewhere else to make it?” Sam offered.

“That is an option. Somewhere off the grid,” Mick said.

“One of Rufus’ cabins,” Dean said, slapping the table.

Sam nodded eagerly. “That’s a great idea – we were able to wait out the Leviathans there for the most part and I know we’ve still got some of Bobby’s books there that we haven’t transferred to the bunker yet – maybe there’s some more information on the Nephilim in one of those.”

“And we have a couple of geek boys with us,” Dean teased, looking over at Mick. “Bet they can read some of the languages the books are in.”

“That is a good idea, except that it would require me being out of the temporary chapter base for a long period of time. They would notice,” Ketch said.

“But if they don’t find us, we don’t have to worry,” Dean said.

“Do you really believe they wouldn’t find us, Mr. Winchester? We found you in a top secret military prison without much difficulty. I doubt a cabin in the woods will offer much protection.”

Sam’s face drooped a little.

“It might not,” Dean said, “but we’ll still have the advantage. You Brits might have tech, but we have experience. Those woods, we know like the back of our hands. We know how to fight in them, we know what tricks they have – your kind doesn’t.”

“I’m unsure if I should feel offended or honored by that statement, Mr. Winchester,” Ketch said slowly, cocking his eyebrow. Dean smirked over at him and shrugged.

“Take it how you want. It’s an idea, if you wanna go through with it.”

Ketch nodded. “I believe it may be the best course of action. Mick?”

Mick nodded. “I’m with the Winchesters. They know what to do best.”

He reached into his coat and pulled out a stack of papers, passing them to Sam. “Here are the blueprints for the device, as well as the ritual for the grace extraction, you’ll need some additional things for that. Don’t speak a word about these things unless you’re in Sam’s room,” he warned, looking at each of the three. When they all nodded, he continued.

“Give me tonight to pack a bag from the base. Tomorrow I’ll give Mick a call and we’ll arrange a place to meet so we can go to the cabin you gentlemen discussed.”

Sam slipped the papers into his pocket. “Thank you, Ketch.”

“I made a promise to you both, and to Mick. I am a man of my word, regardless of my training.”

“Should we go?” Dean asked.

Sam bit his lip, looking at Ketch for a moment. He looked almost disappointed that Dean was eager to leave so quick.

“Let’s stay for a while. We have the rest of the night to get stuff… Let’s have a few drinks.”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. He glanced over at Ketch, who was smiling gently, staring into his glass.

“Yeah, alright.”

***

“We couldn’t get everything – some of this stuff I’ve never even heard of,” Sam said as he placed the bags on the table in the cabin. It was dusty and dark – they hadn’t used it in years, but it was familiar. And safe.

Ketch set his bag on the floor near the door, looking around the cabin as Sam spoke.

“We’ll have to figure something out. What couldn’t you get?”

Sam held out a handwritten list, mostly crossed off. He looked over it, scowling. “These aren’t easy items to find – I had hoped your bunker would have them.”

“Lemme see those,” Dean said, coming up behind Ketch. He looked over his shoulder, reading the list. Ketch looked over, their lips nearly brushing together as Dean mouthed some of the words.

He looked up, noticing his closeness, and cleared his throat before stepping back. He nearly ran into Mick in the process. “Um—Shit—Sorry. Uh, Sam. Call Crowley. I think he can get ahold of those items for us.”

“Crowley? Really?”

“Look, I doubt he wants to deal with super powered Cas again any more than we do. He’ll help.”

Sam shrugged and nodded, taking the paper back from Ketch and wandering outside to call Crowley while the other three put away their supplies.

“May I ask you a question, Dean?” Ketch asked. Dean grunted.

“You and Castiel – you’re very close.”

“And?”

“Was there something going on?” Dean dropped the box of bullets he was pulling out of the bag, looking over at Ketch.

“What? No. Why? Jealous much?”

“No – Just curious.”

“I’m not going to lie, Mr. Winchester, I thought there was something going on as well,” Mick said. Dean groaned.

“You also thought me and my brother were getting it on. I swear – you have the most convoluted sense of attraction—“

“Well you  _are_  incredibly close to your brother,” Ketch said.

Dean glared over at them. “One more word from either of you, and you’ll both be sleeping in the  _woods_ ,” he threatened.

“Well, even if not the angel or your brother – there were those photographs we found of you and the demon Crowley—He’s an ex, isn’t he?” Ketch pushed, a smirk spreading on his lips.

“Nothing happened with Crowley!” Dean cried, reaching into the duffel he had open. He grabbed the first thing he felt, one of Sam’s books, and chucked it in the general direction of Ketch and Mick. They sidestepped it, and Mick laughed a little. Dean scowled, his cheeks red.

“Just make yourselves useful, huh?” He threw a second bag to Mick.

Ketch entered the kitchen before Dean could throw anything else at him, making a noise of disdain. “I know you lads are used to living off the grid, but you are aware there is almost no food here.”

Dean scratched the back of his neck. “Yeah—We should probably make a food run before we get settled in.”

“I’ll go,” Ketch offered.

“I can if you’d like,” Mick argued, but Ketch shook his head. “I’d like to be of some use.”

“Why don’t both of you go,” Dean said. “Sam and I can put our stuff away and get an area in the basement set up to put this thing together.”

“You sure?” Mick asked, and Dean nodded. “I’m sure.”

“We’ll take the car I brought,” Ketch said, offering a small smile to Dean. “Wouldn’t want to touch the precious Impala, would we?”

“I’d break your damn fingers,” Dean said, but his mouth turned up into a smile despite his best efforts to scowl.

Ketch nodded a little and touched Mick’s shoulder. “Come on.”

They walked out just as Sam entered, looking a little surprised when Mick pecked his lips as he walked past.

“Where are they going?” He asked, grabbing one of the bags to help Dean unpack.

“Food run. We didn’t really leave this place stocked with rations for four.”

Sam nodded and the brothers set to work making the cabin livable. Dean would never admit it, but the real reason he’d sent both Mick and Ketch away was because of the memories in this place. He knew Sam – and himself – would want one more moment to remember it. This was where they shared time with Bobby, where they mourned his death. The memories in the walls would remain, but neither Winchester was quite ready to start making new ones.

***

“Okay – I know we’re a ways away from a town but – they’ve been gone a  _long_  time, haven’t they?” Dean asked, glancing at his watch. They’d finished setting up the cabin a while ago, and now were relaxing, waiting for the others to return.

Sam looked up from where he was sitting at the table, reading through an old lore book. He scowled, looking at his own watch.

“Four hours… That is a while. I’ll call Mick.”

Dean nodded. Sam pulled his phone out and found Mick’s contact, tapping his fingers on the worn pages of the book as it rang.

 _“Hello, hello_.”

Sam felt his stomach drop, his vision going blurry for a second at the voice on the phone.

“Toni.”

Dean jumped up, his eyes wide.

“Where’s Mick and Ketch?”

Toni laughed on the other end of the line.  _“Oh, they’re here with me. A bit tied up at the moment. They have been bad, bad lads. I would have executed them right away but Dr. Hess, you remember her – she realized they could be quite useful to us, considering they’re both in romantic relationships with the renowned Winchester brothers.”_

“Toni, I swear to God—“

_“No. We aren’t going to do threats today, Mr. Winchester. I’m going to text you an address. And you and your brother are going to come to it. Unarmed. Or I will peel the skin from both your boyfriend’s faces.”_

She hung up before Sam could answer. He squeezed the phone hard enough that his hand ached, screwing his eyes shut. Images from his time in Toni’s personal torture chamber swam into his vision – the burning, the  _ice water_ , the spells and potions and—

“Sam!” Dean was shaking him, pulling him out of his head. He looked up. Dean’s eyes were wide, concern clear on his face.

“She’s got Mick and Ketch.”


	5. Gather the Troops

“We can’t just bust in there halfcocked, Sam,” Dean argued, pulling the pistol out of Sam’s hands.

“They’ve got Mick, Dean. And Ketch. I’m not gonna let that bitch do to them what she did to me.”

“I know. Okay, I get it. I’m pissed too – I wish we woulda shot her in the fucking face the minute we got you free. But we have to be smart about this. She has the advantage.”

Sam took a shaky breath, trying to calm himself. He nodded, looking down. “Okay, you’re right. So what do we do?”

“We get back up.”

“In the form of who, Dean? Mom’s working with them, Cas has gone psycho angel—Who do we have that’d help us with this?”

Dean chewed his lip, taking a seat at the table. He tapped his fingers on the worn wood for a moment, considering.

“Crowley,” he finally suggested.

“Last time they warded against angels – you really think they won’t ward against demons?”

“Rowena then. She’s powerful as hell – I bet she could bust down any warding they had.”

Sam wet his lips. “What about the Banes twins? And Jody and the girls? We have hunters – we can get help.”

“I don’t wanna see our friends hurt. Rowena and Crowley stand a hell of a better shot than a human.”

“Max and Alicia are witches. They might not be as powerful as Rowena, but they have magic on their side. Jody and Donna are cops. Garth is a werewolf.”

“So what? We gather up a bunch of troops and wage war on these guys?”

“If we have to.”

Sam looked at the latitude and longitude Toni had sent to his phone, comparing it to the road map laid out on the table in front of him. “Well this location is right outside Montrose, Colorado. There’s no way they can be there now – it’s only been a few hours. And she says our car is in a parking lot in the center of Whitefish, so she didn’t take that.”

“Maybe they had a plane,” Dean mumbled.

“Okay. She’s giving us three days to get there – but it’s only a fifteen-hour drive from here.”

“Why three days then?”

Sam shrugged. “Time to decide maybe? Time to rough them up? I don’t know.”

“Time for her to get reinforcements in case we don’t cooperate,” Dean suggested. Sam nodded.

“It’s possible.”

Sam looked back at the map, using a ruler to mark off certain towns.

“Well, provided Garth’s still in Wisconsin, that’s a day’s drive from Montrose. Jody and Donna are about a day away as well. I don’t know where the twins are, but we can give them a shout – see if they’re close enough. If you  _want_  to bring these guys in, we need to get on the phones.”

 

Calling people wasn’t as hard as Sam and Dean had expected it to be. The situation was dire and all hands were required. Considering the amount of favors everyone knew they owed the Winchesters – it was no brainer, despite Sam and Dean’s assurances that saying no was not only a reasonable answer – it was expected.

At the end of the day, they’d enlisted the help of Jody, Donna, Garth, Max, and Alicia. Sam was flipping through his phone, searching for Rowena’s number while Dean stepped outside, calling Crowley.

 

_“Again, boys?”_

“Crowley, uh—This is a weird question,” Dean mumbled, rubbing the back of his neck.

_“You’re not gonna propose to me are you?”_

“What? Shut up. No. Can you come back to the cabin? We need to talk.”

“What do you need, Squirrel?”

Dean jumped and whipped around when Crowley’s voice sounded simultaneously in his ear and behind him.

“God I  _hate_  it when you do that.”

Crowley smiled, pocketing his phone. “So?”

“You know about Mick and Ketch. How we were working with them to make the angel thing.”

Crowley nodded.

“They got captured. By the Brits.”

“Aren’t they British?”

“Yeah—But they went behind their backs. The British Men of Letters want Sam and me dead. And them dead for working with us.”

“I don’t see how this is my problem.”

Dean groaned. “It’s a problem for everyone, Crowley. The Brits have two of  _my_  friends.”

“One is your boyfriend, if I’m not mistaken?”

Dean’s eyes narrowed. “What? You jealous?”

Crowley grinned. “Oh no, Dean. You and I will always have our summer of fun to look back on fondly. But I just don’t see why I should help you two boneheads save these two.”

“Because the Brits want to eradicate the American hunters, Crowley.”

Crowley shrugged. “Again, I don’t see a problem. No hunters means easier deals for my demons.”

“No. No  _American_  hunters means the Brits move their hunters in. Which means more killing of your demons. Plus, our bunker is the only one with the instructions to close the Gates of Hell. We die, the Brits gain control of the instructions. Say bye-bye to Earth and deals and sweet piña coladas.”

Crowley’s face sank into a scowl. “I suppose you have a point. So, what do you intend to do?”

Dean sighed a little. “We’re getting together an army. We’re gonna storm the damn gates. Get Mick and Ketch out – and wipe out every single Brit we find. We’ve got a team of hunters, our buddy that’s a werewolf… Sam’s working on your mother… But some demon power would really come in handy. I’m asking you, Crowley, as a friend. Will you help us?”

Crowley seemed to lose height at Dean’s words. His expression softened for a moment, gazing at the hunter in front of him.

Dean offered a smile. “Listen – You’re a dick. You’re the king of Hell—But you’ve done a lot for me and Sam. We don’t give you the credit you deserve sometimes. I mean you sacrificed half your demons for us when we were fighting Amara – you’ve helped us take out some of the worst bad guys we’ve ever seen – I mean you can be an ass about it, but Crowley—“

“Shut up, Dean. I don’t need you crying on my suit, it’s Armani. I’m in. Where does this little army of yours bunk down?”

Dean’s face broke into a grin. “We’re meeting in Montrose, Colorado in two days.”

“I’ll be there.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Ever. And stop with the puppy dog eyes – your brother does it so much better.”

Dean opened his mouth to offer a snarky response, but Crowley was already gone.

***

Montrose, Colorado wasn’t a small town by any means. It was actually a lot larger than Dean was comfortable being in. Too many buildings, too much traffic, just too  _much_. Normally, when working a case in a big city, Dean would retire to the comfort of the motel room. Just him and Sam, a television, a six pack, and  _quiet_.

The motel room was anything but quiet today. Dean thought a few times that braving the noisy, crowded city might actually be better.

It didn’t start badly. The brothers had been the first in the town, texting the motel and room number to everyone. They’d just ordered pizza when the first arrival showed – Jody and Donna stood at the door. Donna rushed in, squeezing Dean in a rib crushing hug as Jody pressed a kiss to Sam’s cheek.

“We’ll get him back, Sam,” she whispered. Sam nodded, trying his best to hide the anxiety in his expression.

“We have pizza,” Dean offered when Donna let him breathe again.

“You boys are life savers.” The sheriffs wandered to the table, beginning to eat without much more prodding. Crowley was the next to show up, popping into the motel room without much warning.

Donna jumped, pulling her gun in surprise. Dean raised his hands. “Don’t shoot! It won’t hurt him anyways.”

“ _You_ ,” Jody snarled. She dropped the slice of pizza she’d been eating onto the table with a wet smack and strode up to Crowley.

“Jody Mills. You’re looking lovely as ever,” Crowley said. The crack of her hand across his cheek echoed through the room.

“I could kill you.”

Donna scowled. “What—“

“He tried to kill her a few years ago,” Sam explained, crossing his arms. He was trying to hide the amused smirk on his lips as Jody began to recite an exorcism.

Dean rushed forward, cupping a hand over her mouth and pushing Crowley back.

“I get it – we all hate him. But we need him.”

“You  _need_  the monster that tried to kill me?” Jody snapped, slapping Dean’s hand away.

“He’s got power. We need power. Just this once. Then exorcise away.”

“Oh come on, Squirrel. After our little moment at the cabin?” Crowley slid his hand down Dean’s back. He whipped around and jammed a finger at Crowley.

“Touch me again and  _I_  will exorcise your smelly ass.”

“My ass is anything but smelly, Dean, I believe you know—“

“Enough,” Dean growled. “Can we just behave? Please? We have to work together or every single one of us is going to end up dead.”

Jody glared at Crowley, crossing her arms. “He comes near me and I’m stabbing him in the throat.”

“You have my permission. Go on and eat,” Dean said, guiding Jody back to the table. He threw Crowley a warning glare over his shoulder.

Garth arrived next. He didn’t wait for the door to open completely, just wiggled his way inside and dragged Sam and Dean into a tight hug. Dean laughed a little, hugging back just as tight.

“Been too long, buddy. Thank you for coming,” He said softly. Garth pulled back, his eyes shining.

“My pleasure. I told you guys if you ever need anything, I’m there. Plus, I’ve heard some bad news about these British hunters. They’ve destroyed a few packs that weren’t hurting anyone. Bess is terrified they’re gonna come after ours next.”

“You’ve been keeping your nose clean?” Sam worried. Garth nodded.

“Not a lick of human blood. Honest. I wouldn’t betray you two like that after what you did for us.”

“We believe you, Garth. If this works out in our favor – you can tell Bess she can rest easy at night, we won’t let a thing hurt you two.”

“Three, actually,” Garth said softly. Dean raised his eyebrows.

“Three?”

Garth pulled out his phone and flipped through it for a moment before passing it to Sam and Dean. On the screen was a photo of an ultrasound.

“She’s six months along.”

Sam looked up, his gaze softening. “Garth, why didn’t you say anything, man? You should be at home with your wife.”

“She wanted me to come. You two have helped keep us safe and it’s time I repay that favor. She’s okay, she’s got our friends taking care of her.”

“You will go home to her, Garth. I promise you,” Dean said. Garth grinned again, his eyes filling with tears.  
“You’ve always been a good man, Dean. One of the best.”

Dean chuckled. “Come on, introductions.” He set his hand on Garth’s shoulder and led him to Jody and Donna first. Immediately Donna and Garth hit it off – he’d visited Minnesota once when he was human and thought it was beautiful, and the food was delicious. Dean chuckled a little, glancing at Sam as they talked excitedly. At least  _someone_  was getting along.

“So this is your dog friend, is it?” Crowley asked. Garth stopped mid-sentence, his smile fading a little as he turned to face Crowley.

“I thought I smelled sulfur. You’re a demon. One of Sam and Dean’s friends like me?”

“Well, I would say an uneasy ally. Tell me, are you a friend or a pet?”

“Crowley – come on –“ Sam tried. Garth closed the distance between himself and Crowley quickly and wrapped him in a hug. Crowley’s eyes bulged, his arms flying out to the sides of his body as if he wasn’t sure what to do.

Garth stepped back a little, offering Crowley a wide smile. “It’s okay to be lonely. I get scared the Winchesters don’t like me sometimes, because I’m not human anymore. But they’re good men. You’re here because they love you, in their own way. Just like everyone else.”

“Uh—“ Crowley blinked a few times at Garth. “Um… Well, perhaps you could… Take a step back. I’ve never cared much for—Touch.”

“It’s okay. I understand being starved for affection,” Garth said, but stepped back farther as requested.

“You’ll get used to it,” Dean said, smiling when Garth looked back at him. “Sometimes his hugs are exactly what we need.”

 

The rest of the rag tag group trickled in after that, Max and Alicia talking excitedly about some information they pulled from some of their contacts, finishing each other’s sentences in the way only twins can. Dean took a step back, deciding to let Sam handle the chatter while he ate. The twins were great, but sometimes they were just so  _energetic_.

Rowena entered last, dropping her bag with a flourish. All eyes fell on her when she entered, a natural attention grabber.

Crowley’s eyes narrowed. “Mother.”

“Fergus.” She turned to Sam and Dean. “So, when are we going to storm the gates?”

Sam chuckled. “You sound a little too excited about this, Rowena.”

“Of course I’m excited about it. The British Men of Letters destroyed my coven and my home. I’ve been eager to get my hands on them since I heard they’d resurfaced in America.”

“Why haven’t you done anything then?” Crowley asked.

“Because I knew the brothers Winchester would handle the situation as they saw fit. Unlike you, Fergus, I have faith in these ridiculous humans.”

Sam snorted. “Thanks for the back handed compliment. We need to make a plan first, so—Relax. Come on, I have someone you should meet.” Sam set his hand on Rowena’s shoulder and guided her to where Max and Alicia were sitting on the bed, flipping through a thick, leather-bound spell book.

Dean watched them go. Garth tapped his shoulder. “What’s up, man?”

“I know this is a plan to save your friends. But you know we’ll have to probably kill a lot of these guys. I know you and your brother. You’re good, peaceful men. You don’t kill when someone doesn’t deserve it. Are you guys going to be okay? Doing this?”

Dean smiled at the concern in Garth’s voice. He squeezed his shoulder. “Every one of these people deserve it, Garth. The things they’ve done—It’s unbelievable. The torture of innocents, hurting friendly monsters—Trying to kill their own when someone dares to disagree. You don’t need to worry about us. Will  _you_  be okay with this? I know you’re peaceful. I know you don’t like hurting people. And being a wolf –“

“I’ll be okay. I don’t plan to use my power unless I have to. And I can promise you that all hearts will stay intact.”

Dean chuckled a little. “Good. We’ve got a demon, plus three strong as hell witches. And you, plus sheriffs. Everyone here has some hunting experience in their own way. This group works, Garth. We’ll have each other’s backs.”

Garth smiled wider and nodded. “Okay. I believe you guys. It’ll be nice working with you again. Are you going to start strategizing right away? I’m a little hungry,“ He admitted.

“We got you covered – we visited a couple places yesterday. Check the fridge. Should be a little selection for you – I know it won’t be as good as fresh, but we can’t afford to draw attention to ourselves if you go hunting for food.”

Garth hurried to the mini fridge and opened it, pulling out a tupperware container. Inside was a thick heart. The top was scrawled in Dean’s handwriting, ‘elk’.

“You’re awesome, Dean,” Garth said, grinning.

“Gotta make sure our friends are taken care of.”

Garth opened the lid and shoved it in the microwave, glancing over at Jody and Donna. They were both staring, open mouthed at him.

“What?”

“You—“

“He’s a werewolf, Donna. He eats hearts. He’s kinda… Their version of vegetarian though. Nothing but animals,” Dean assured her.

She smiled a little. “Were you bitten?”

Garth nodded. “A few years back. Dangers of the job, you know? I was gonna just end my own life, before I hurt anyone, but my now wife – Bess – she found me. She taught me how to control myself. You and any other person in this room, you’re safe, I promise.”

Donna’s smile grew. “I believe you. Sam and Dean wouldn’t be friends with someone dangerous. Well—“ She glanced at Crowley who just smiled.

“I’m only dangerous when I need to be, dear.”

“Like you needed to try and kill me?” Jody mumbled.

Crowley sighed. “I feel like we need to get past this. I did it because the Winchesters were trying to destroy me. They were trying to close the gates of Hell. I rather enjoy Earth. I’m sorry for what I did, Jody, but I had absolute faith they would come through and not let you die.”

Jody snorted, looking back to her pizza.

“I’ve changed,” Crowley tried again.

“He’s not wrong. He has changed – a lot,” Sam said in quiet defense.

“For the better?” Jody snarked.

“Shockingly, yes. He’s saved our asses a lot,” Dean said.

Jody sighed softly, eyeing Crowley across the room. “I’ll work with you. I don’t like you and I don’t trust you. But I trust Sam and Dean.”

“That’s all I ask. I simply want all of us to come out of this on the winning side and I will do what I can to protect you and the other humans here,” Crowley promised.

Jody nodded. “Fine. Good enough, I guess.”

Sam cleared his throat, standing between the beds to look at everyone. “So, we kinda explained everything quick to each of you on the phone. But a reminder – I’m sure most of you have heard about the British Men of Letters, and what they’re trying to do.”

“Kill the American hunters,” Alicia said. Sam nodded.

“Completely eradicate us. Then bring in their own hunters. We don’t do things their way. We let friendly monsters, like Garth go – they’d just as soon shoot him in head. We work with witches and demons when we have to. We let monsters do their thing until they get out of hand. The Brits – they want all monsters gone. Friendly or otherwise. Witches, demons, shifters, weres – even the ones that don’t normally hurt people – the psychics and the skinwalkers. It’s a good fantasy, but it’s not our reality.”

“The way you guys do things works,” Jody agreed. Sam smiled a little.

“Not according to them. A few weeks ago, we stopped Ketch from shooting Mick. Executing him in cold blood.”

“And now you’re trying to save them both?” Garth asked. Sam nodded.

“Ketch was obeying orders given by what they call the Old Men. Most of them are still in Britain as far as we know but they have a mouthpiece here in the US. A woman named Dr. Hess. Had Ketch refused to shoot, he would’ve been killed as well. We stopped it, we pulled Mick out. But it put a target on our backs and his. Ketch started working with us behind their backs. He knew what they were doing was wrong. But they figured it out and now a woman named Toni Bevell has them both.”

“Bevell – isn’t that the woman that tortured you?” Rowena asked. Sam grimaced a little and nodded.

“Yeah, a few months ago – when we got together to stop Amara and I thought Dean had died, she caught me and she kidnapped me. Tortured me in—Ways I won’t even begin to detail. From what they’ve implied – that was their form of polite interrogation. I don’t even want to know what they consider true torture. And two of our friends –  _my_  boyfriend… Are going to subjected to that.”

“And Dean’s, yes?” Crowley asked. Dean glared over at him.

“Beating a dead horse, Crowley. Yes. Ketch and I were… Whatever. Dating, I guess. We aren’t anymore. But he’s still on our side and I’m not gonna let him go through that because he wanted to help us.”

“So what do we do? From what you’ve told us about these guys – they’ve got us outmanned and outgunned,” Max asked.

“They do in both regards. But they’re all human. They have limitations that this group doesn’t. Crowley is the King of Hell – he’s one of the toughest demons Dean and I have dealt with. Rowena’s a three hundred year old witch – add her power to yours and Alicia’s, that’s a pretty deadly coven. Garth’s a werewolf. Even not changing form he’s still got strength we couldn’t even begin to imagine. We don’t have the numbers. But we’ve got power that they can’t beat.”

“And we have cooperation,” Dean added. “Willing cooperation. The Brits are brainwashed but they’re not stupid. Some of them have to know what they do is wrong. That’s gonna be their weak point.”

“So what, do we kill on sight?”

“We need to figure out how many there are first. Toni gave Dean and I three days to come here, alone and unarmed. I can only assume she’s gonna have back up in case we don’t comply. Other hunters like Ketch. They’re assassins. They’re deadly and they’re vicious. We don’t go in blind.”

“I can scout it. I’m good in the woods, I’m quick, and I have a good nose,” Garth offered. Sam nodded.

“That’s what Dean and I thought. We don’t want you alone though, I’d like you and Donna to go tonight. Keep her safe and she’ll do the same for you, okay?”

Both Donna and Garth nodded.

A knock sounded at the door, startling everyone. “We didn’t invite anyone else,” Sam said, pulling his gun from his jeans. Dean did the same, approaching the door slowly. The others in the room all tensed, hands reaching for a preferred weapon if they had one, or standing in fighting posture.

Dean leaned forward, looking out the peephole. His shoulders slumped and he turned, putting his gun away.

“Didn’t tell me we’d have more company, Jody.”

“What?”

He pulled open the door and Claire stepped in, a duffel over her shoulder. “What’s up guys? Big crowd.”

Jody’s eyes bulged. “What the hell are you doing here, Claire? You’re supposed to be at home.”

“Right, and let you go off and have a super fun hunt? I don’t think so.”

“Jody’s right. You shouldn’t be here,” Dean tried, shutting the door behind her.

“Why not? I heard you talking to her. You said this was big. And you needed to rescue your friends. If you need help – why turn it away?”

“Because you’re just a k—“

“If you say I’m just a kid, I’m going to kick you in the nuts so hard you taste your own baby juice. I’ve held my own for years. Let me help.”

Dean shook his head. “Claire, this is more dangerous than a regular hunt.”

“Mick saved my life, Dean. If it hadn’t been for him and Sam I would’ve been eating a bullet. He didn’t have to – I asked him to shoot me and he refused. He tried to keep me safe. Let me repay the favor.”

Dean sighed, looking over at Jody. “Your call.”

Jody scowled a little, meeting Claire’s eyes. “I don’t want you hurt.”

“Jody—“

“Ah, ah—I wasn’t finished,” Jody said, holding up a finger. “But I know you’re a decent hunter and even if we say no, you’ll find a way to get involved. If you  _promise_  to keep safe and stick by one of the others… You can join in.”

Claire grinned, rushing up to Jody and pulling her into a tight hug. She dropped her duffel where everyone else had piled their own and turned to Sam, sitting on the empty bed. “So fill me in. What’d I miss?”

Sam sighed a little, but smiled. He explained the short version, catching her up to where she’d entered.

“Okay, so recon.”

“Actually – Garth – do you think you could keep an eye on two people?” Sam asked.

Garth nodded. “When our pack hunts it’s five or six. I can keep ‘em safe.”

Sam looked to Donna, who nodded. “I’ve heard about Claire, she’s sharp with a gun if we need it. She can come.”

“You cool with that?” Sam asked. Claire nodded. “I can do recon. But I want in on the actual fight too.”

“Of course. We’ll need all hands on deck for that. Now, I have an idea…”

Sam explained the plan he and Dean had come up with, taking advice and suggestions from the others when they offered it. By the time the sun set, they had a decent strategy in place. They just needed details on the security of the location, and how tough it would be to get through.

Claire, Donna, and Garth set out with the coordinates and a few weapons while the others that needed sleep rented motel rooms. Crowley disappeared, promising to arrive back early in the morning with some supplies they needed.

Before too long, Sam and Dean were alone once again. Dean slumped onto his bed, covering his eyes with his arm. “I need a drink.”

Sam chuckled, stripping out of his outer layers and settling into bed himself, phone close by in case Garth or the ladies needed to call. “You’re telling me… I think this will work though. I have a good feeling.”

“We’ve got an army, Sam. If this doesn’t send a message to those assholes, nothing will.”

“Do you think we can do it? Honestly?”

Dean was quiet for a moment. Sam saw him wet his lips and begin to chew on them. He slid his arm from his eyes and looked over.

“I do. I think it’ll be dangerous but this isn’t something that the Brits will expect from us. I’m sure they think we’ll go in guns blazing. Working with others, strategy – it’s never been our thing.”

“We need to make it our thing.” Dean nodded in agreement.

“We need to get some shut eye. Turn your phone up, if they need help they’ll call.”

Sam nodded, doing as Dean requested and setting the phone on the nightstand between them. He set the alarm for early the next morning and wiggled under the covers, sighing into the darkness when Dean shut off the lamp.


	6. Storm the Castle

“Are you ready for this, Sammy?” Dean asked as they drove up the dirt path about a mile outside the perimeter the British Men of Letters had set.

“As ready as I’ll ever be.” Sam slammed the lip into his pistol and cocked it. He glanced into the rearview at the two cars following them.

“We’ll get them back.”

“Yeah, about that. Dean, I know you’re still pissed at Ketch—“

“Sam—“

“Listen to me. I know you’re pissed, but I also know  _you_. I know you care about him. Tell him. Forgive him. Okay?”

Dean’s mouth tightened into a scowl but he nodded.

“I’ll consider it.” He parked and turned off the car, sliding out. For a moment, he and Sam stood still, watching everyone else park and get out. He was a bit overwhelmed. All these other hunters –  _friends_  – were surrounding them, awaiting orders like a small army unit. If only their dad could see them now.

“You all remember the plan?” Sam asked. Everyone nodded.

“Watch your backs, and watch out for each other. We don’t want casualties today, okay guys?” Dean reminded them. They nodded once more, each beginning to check their weapons.

“Alright. Let’s go kick some ass.”

***

Toni looked up from her notebook when the door to the mostly empty room opened. The guard shoved Sam and Dean in, cuffs binding their wrists. Dean stumbled, dropping to his knees at the doorway. Sam helped him stand, glaring at Toni.”

“Did you search them for weapons?” She asked the guard.

“Yes ma’am. Clean except for a lockpick set in the short one’s pocket.”

“Thank you, you may go.”

“Where are Mick and Ketch?” Dean asked when the door shut behind them. Toni looked around the mostly empty room. It was clean and concrete, with three chairs – two metal chairs with arms facing one another and one nearby, a comfortable spinning chair that Toni had been sitting in. Next to her was a table with various knives and needles, causing Sam to shudder – it reminded him of his own torture at her hands.

“Oh, they’re just getting cleaned up. We wouldn’t want the last time you lay eyes on your  _boyfriends_  to be a mess, would we?”

“You promised to let them go!” Sam snarled.

“And we will. Once you’ve been properly disposed of.”

Sam and Dean shared a glance. “Fine,” Dean muttered.

The door opened again. Mick was shoved in, tripping over his own bare feet and landing on the concrete. He had been stripped down to just the blue jeans that he’d been wearing when he left the cabin three days before. Now they were cut up and caked with dried blood. His feet were dirty and cut up, and when he managed to look up at the brothers, his right eye was nearly swollen shut, cuts and scrapes on his cheeks and lip.

Sam rushed forward to help him stand, only to be stopped by the muzzle of a rifle in his face.

“I’d stay where you were, Mr. Winchester,” Toni warned.

Sam backed up slowly, away from the guard’s gun. When he was standing next to Dean, the guard grabbed Mick and shoved him unceremoniously into the chair facing them, cuffing his wrists to the arms. 

Mick looked up again, wetting his cracked lips. “Why did you come?” He croaked.

“Because we don’t abandon our own,” Dean said. Mick chuckled weakly, grimacing a little.

“Foolish American boys.”

“Where’s Ketch?” Toni asked the guard.

“He was resisting treatment. We’re bringing him in in just a few moments.

“Is he conscious?”

“Conscious enough.”

“What treatment?” Dean asked. Toni glanced over at him.

“Oh, did I forget to tell you? We  _will_  be letting Mick and Ketch go. But first we’re going to reprogram them. See, it worked the first time, when they were young. But working with you two seems to have broken them again. We’re doing the same thing with your mother.”

Dean jumped forward, baring his teeth. The guard stepped up, catching him under the chin with the rifle.

“Another step and I make a new hole in your head.”

Dean glared daggers at the guard, glancing down to see his name stitched on his vest. He wet his lips.

“Buckner – Take your gun away from my chin,  _now_.”

“Or what?” Buckner sneered.

“The deal your boss made with us was we see  _both_  Ketch and Mick alive and well, then you let them go and deal with us. Wouldn’t want to make your boss out to be a sneaky liar, now would you?”

“Buckner, go retrieve Mr. Ketch,” Toni said. He shoved Dean backwards before storming out the door.

“You know, you call us animals – you’ve got some beauties working for you,” Dean grumped.

“Our mother is here?” Sam asked, not letting Toni answer Dean.

“No, of course not. Do you think we’re ignorant? We’re not letting you within ten miles of your mother.”

Buckner pulled open the door for the third time, shoving Ketch in. He skidded on his knees on the floor, groaning weakly. Like Mick, he’d been stripped down to just the jeans he was wearing three days earlier, his back cut up and bruised. Buckner shoved him into the chair and strapped him in, ignoring his weak protests.

Dean shifted, glaring at Toni. “So what now?”

“Now? Now we kill you,” Toni said, a smug smile on her thin face.

“You don’t really think it’ll stick, do you?” Sam asked. “I mean – you’ve done your research. You must know how many times we’ve died and come back.”

Toni shrugged a little. She nodded to Buckner to step out of the room, shutting the door behind him.

“I do. But none of those times were your bodies salted and burned. I’d like to see you come back from that.”

“Cas came back from being blown to atomic bits,” Dean said, and Sam chuckled, adding,

“Oh, and Kevin, we salted and burned him and he was a ghost for  _long_  time.”

“And then of course, Mom, who was dead for what, three decades before she came back, and she was fully burned,” Dean said.

“Enough!” Toni spat, grabbing the small pistol on the table. Dean smiled a bit.

“And a little pea shooter too. Tsk—Too bad.”  
“Stop, please,” Mick begged weakly.

“No, I want her to shoot us.  _Prove_  just how weak we are,” Sam said, smirking.

The air began to shimmer purple around Sam. Toni’s grip faltered a little and Dean grinned wider.

“By the way – we came prepared.”

“What? You—“

_“Manete_!” Sam’s voice was distorted, sounding like his own tone as well as a higher, more feminine one. The room was filled with a blinding light. Toni fired off one round in Sam’s general direction, unable to see.

When the light cleared, Sam was gone. In his place – and free of the cuffs – stood Rowena. She cocked her eyebrow, tossing the cuffs to the side.

“Try again.”

“ _Witch_ ,” Toni snarled, aiming a little higher.

“Uh, don’t think so,” Dean said. He waved his hand, knocking the gun from her grip without touching her.

“What—“ Toni tried to lunge toward them, only to find herself stuck to the floor.

Rowena smirked a little over at Dean and reached out, removing his cuffs and wiping a small sigil off his wrist. The air shimmered again and Max stood in Dean’s place, grinning.

“Oh, I’m sorry, did you think the Winchesters were stupid enough to come without backup?”

Toni leaned back, grabbing for one of the weapons on the table. “Buc—“ Max circled around and slapped her across the face to silence her, shoving her onto her knees. He used the cuffs he’d previously been wearing to bind her hands behind her back.

Rowena stepped forward, crouching down to free Mick.

“Where are Sam and Dean?” Mick asked.

“They’re safe, don’t worry. Working to get us all out of here.”

“You’ll never get out of here,” Toni spat. “We knew the Winchesters wouldn’t take the deal, we’re ready for them.”

“Oh, your seventeen armed guards around the perimeter and two guards in the building?” Max asked, going to free Ketch. “We’re already taking them out.”

“How—“

“Because we knew what to expect. You’re predictable. And Sam and Dean area hell of a lot smarter than you give them credit for.”

Someone began to bang on the door, locked magically by Rowena when she shifted back to her form.

“Should we let him in?” Max asked, tossing the cuffs aside. Ketch slumped down, shaking his head.

“I can barely walk, I’ll be useless to you all.”

Max shrugged. “Dean will be coming soon. Everyone else too. We’ll help you. We’re not leaving you.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Ketch argued.

“I don’t care. Sam and Dean care about you. That’s good enough for me. Let the guards in, Rowena.”

She nodded and stood straight, waving her hand.

The door burst open and two guards barreled in, Buckner from before as well as a muscular woman carrying two pistols. Max shoved Ketch’s chair over as the bullets began to fly. He helped Ketch get behind Toni as Rowena worked her magic, sending the guards flying to opposite sides of the room.

“I don’t like  _bullets_ ,” she warned. Mick scrambled forward, snagging one of the pistols and levelling it on Buckner.

“Move and I will shoot you.”

Buckner snorted. “Your aim is terrible,” he said, reaching for his rifle.

The echo of the gunshot rang through the room, Buckner collapsing inches from his weapon.

“I’m dating a Winchester, lad.”

The female guard scrambled up, heading for the door. Mick fired off another shot. The bullet buried itself in the metal above her head. “Stay put.”

“Well, that wasn’t too difficult. Max dear, do you think you can watch the door?” Rowena asked.

Max nodded, grabbing the rifle from the floor and standing in front of the open door. Rowena pointed to the female guard and the pointed to the chair Mick had abandoned.

“Sit.”

“Fuck you,” she spat.

Rowena smiled. “Shoot her if she moves, would you, dear?” She asked, setting her hand on Mick’s shoulder.

“My pleasure.”

She walked over to the dead guard and grabbed his radio, flipping through the channels for a moment. When she reached the one she was searching for, she pressed the button.

“We got your boys, Winchesters.”

The radio crackled in response before Dean answered.

_“Thanks Rowena. How’s the guard situation looking?”_

“One’s dead, the other is a cowering mess at my feet – it is quite delightful.”

_“Kill all the guards,”_  Dean said. The female guard gave a weak sob before Mick fired off another shot. Her body slumped to the concrete floor. Rowena grimaced.

“You could have warned me – this dress will need to be dry-cleaned.”

Mick rolled his eyes a little. He limped over to Toni, crouching behind her to see how Ketch was faring.

_“Is the warding in the building down?”_  Dean asked.

“Yes. The only warding we found was angelic. I don’t believe they anticipated you bringing a demon and a witch.”

_“Great. Lemme talk to that bitch. She’s still alive right?”_

“Oh yes, trussed up with both cuffs and magic.”

Rowena walked over to Toni and held the walkie down to her face.

“Please, if you kill me the entire British chapter will come down on you. The ramifications will be severe.”

_“Oh, begging isn’t gonna save you, sweetheart. See, I made you a promise the first time we spoke. I promised if my brother wasn’t in one piece I’d take you apart. Now, he most definitely wasn’t but I gave you a pass. Because I’m a nice guy and I don’t like hurting people if I don’t have to. But now. Now you’ve hurt my brother, my friends, and you assholes have my mother. I don’t give second chances. Make your peace.”_

The radio crackled for a moment. When it went silent, it was Sam’s voice over the speaker.

_“Rowena, we’re coming in. Almost everyone is cleared out here – we’ve got your bag – can you whip up some healing salves with Max fast?”_

“Who’s hurt?” Max asked.

The radio was silent for a moment.

“Sam?” Max asked louder.

_“Jody and Alicia. They took some bullets.”_

“Get them in here,  _now_ ,” Max cried.

_“We’re on our way.”_

Rowena tossed the walkie aside. “Max, go be a dear and check the halls, then let the group in, okay? Mick – do you know this place well?”

“Well enough.”

“Is there anywhere that they may have herbs that I could use in a spell?”

“Yeah, probably.”

Rowena nodded, watching Toni for a second.

“I can watch her,” Ketch offered, taking Mick’s pistol.

“You sure? You’re not doing so well,” Mick worried.

“I’m well enough to fire a gun if she frees herself. Tape her mouth shut so she can’t use any spells.”

Mick nodded. He helped Ketch get settled into the chair again before grabbing the tape. Ketch trained the gun on Toni, breathing steadily.

“You sure you’re gonna be okay, Mr. Ketch?” Mick asked softly.

“I’ll be fine. I won’t disappoint you again.”

Mick smiled a little and nodded. He motioned with his head for Rowena to follow him down the hall.

***

Half of their group poured into the small room. Sam was helping Claire with Jody, their hands stained red from the open wound in her torso. Dean came in next, carrying Alicia. Max followed close behind, his eyes wet with tears.

“Lay ‘em out here,” Max said, motioning to a clear spot on the floor.

“Where’s everyone else?” Rowena asked as she and Mick entered.

Sam rose when he made sure Claire had pressure on Jody’s side, grabbing Mick and pulling him into a kiss.

Mick chuckled a little, leaning back. “Missed you too, Mr. Winchester.”

“Everyone else is still outside, we had a couple of guards run, we don’t want them calling in back up. Can you fix this, Rowena?” Dean asked, pressing down on Alicia’s leg. Blood oozed between his fingers despite the pressure he put on the wound.

“I can try. Which has lost more blood?”

“Jody.”

Rowena nodded, grabbing her bag from Dean and opening it. Mick pulled away from Sam and couched down, laying out herbs that they’d found in storage.

“How can I help?”

“Start mixing these together,” Rowena said, shoving a few jars and a bowl toward Mick. She pulled out a thin knife and went to Jody, setting her hand on Claire’s arm. “I need to get the bullet out, dear.”

“It’s a through and through,” Claire said, her voice calm despite the tears in her eyes.

“We’ll save her.”

Rowena worked steadily on both Jody and Alicia, giving commands to Max and Mick to stir or apply the salves. Within ten minutes, both were sleeping, their pulses steady.

“They’ll be alright, right?” Max asked, watching his sister.

“They will be as far as I know. Once we get somewhere safe, I would like to try a more complex spell, I haven’t got all the herbs here.”

“We need to get out of here,” Dean said.

“What do we do with her?” Mick asked, jutting his chin toward Toni.

“She’s coming with us. She’s got something we need.”

“Ketch can barely walk, Dean,” Sam worried, crouched down by Ketch’s chair. “I don’t know what they did, but—“

“You don’t wish to know, Mr. Winchester,” Ketch said, chuckling. “I’ll manage.”

“I’ll help you,” Dean said. “How about you, Mick?”

“I’m feeling much better. I’ll make it.”

“Alright. You keep an eye on the bitch. Sam can carry Jody, Max, carry your sister. We’ll gather up the rest of the troops and make sure all bodies are accounted for.”

Mick walked over to Toni and ripped the tape from her mouth before grabbing her wrists, forcing her to stand. “Witch, do you mind freeing her feet?”

“I have a name, Man of Letters,” Rowena mumbled, waving her hand. Toni stumbled forward, attempting to break free from Mick’s grip. He chuckled, pressing the pistol to her throat.

“Stop moving. And I’m not a Man of Letters anymore, witch. My name is Mick.”

“I’m aware. You should know who I am as well, if you did your job.” Mick smirked.

“Rowena MacLeod.”

“There you go.”

Sam cleared his throat. “Can we save the flirting for civilization, please?”

“Aw, sounds like Sammy’s jealous,” Dean teased, earning a glare from Sam.

***

They made their way out of the building, looking around. Crowley, Donna, and Garth were standing near the exit. Scattered all around were bodies, some without heads, gunshots wounds, some with scorch marks and other horrendous injuries.

Toni looked around at the carnage, bile rising in her throat. “You’re monsters,” She whispered.

Dean looked over at her. “Only when we have to be. We don’t like killing people. If you knew us, you’d know that. Just don’t provoke.”

“These men and women were doing their  _jobs_ ,” Toni spat. Dean shrugged.

“So were we. Can’t bring myself to care. Shut up before I take your tongue.”

***

“So what do you intend to do with me? Keep me hostage?” Toni muttered, squirming in the chair she was tied to.

Sam glanced over at her. He was sitting on the bed with Mick, cleaning and bandaging some of the wounds on his back. Ketch was sleeping on the next bed over, fixed up.

“Nope. We need you to answer some questions for us,” Sam said. He pressed a kiss to Mick’s shoulder. “You’re good. Wanna get some sleep?”

“Only if you’re with me.”

Sam smiled a little. “I gotta wait for Dean or Crowley to come back. They’re all still working on Jody and Alicia.”

“I wish they hadn’t gotten hurt for us.”

Sam grabbed Mick’s hand and squeezed it. “Don’t do that. They knew the risks.”

“Oh please, I’d rather have my eyes burned out,” Toni mumbled.

“Keep talking and I’ll oblige,” Ketch mumbled, his face in the pillow. Sam chuckled.

“Sorry for waking you.”

“It wasn’t you, Mr. Winchester. No need to apologize. It was the screaming parrot you have at the foot of my bed.”

Sam tried to stifle his laugh as Toni glared at Ketch. “Should we tape her mouth shut again?” Mick offered.

Sam shook his head. “Nah, Dean’ll be back soon. Then I’m gonna go get us dinner.”

“I can watch her if you want to go,” Mick offered. Sam glanced at him, chewing his lip.   
“You sure?”

“Between the two of us we’ll make sure she stays put, Sam. I know you must be worried about your friends as well – go on,” Ketch offered. Sam nodded and tugged his shoes on. He pressed a kiss to Mick’s mouth before passing each of them a pistol and heading out.

***

“So what are we doing with her?” Dean asked, washing Jody’s blood from his hands.

“Which her?” Sam asked, leaning on the bathroom door frame.

“The Brit bitch.”

“Well we need her to get Mom, don’t we? Guess we move on that. Once we make sure our friends get back safe.”

“Do we wanna send them all back? I mean, Jody and Alicia and Max, yeah, but—We could still use some help.”

“Dean, we’ve already asked too much of them.”

“Don’t you even start that we’re even crap, Sam,” Donna’s voice startled Sam into turning. He chuckled.

“Didn’t think you could hear me.”

“We all can. Now, don’t start telling us we’re even. We’re your friends, Sam. Both you and Dean. I think I speak for all the people here when I say we will help you.”

Dean leaned on the doorframe opposite Sam. “We have one more major player for the Brits to take out, and we need to bring our Mom back to our side. It’s why we kept Toni alive. Then we gotta fix Cas and save a devil baby.”

The room was silent after Dean finished speaking. A throat was cleared and a few people shifted, all looking at each other.

Claire rolled her eyes, standing up from Jody’s bed.

“I don’t know about these guys, but I’m in.”

“Claire—“

“I held my own today, didn’t I?”

“Yeah, but this—“

“Cas is my friend too, Dean. At least lemme help with that.”

“But Jody—“

“Alex is on her way to pick her up. Jody is gonna be fine, Rowena said so. She’d want me to do what I can to help since she can’t.”

“Claire isn’t wrong, boys,” Donna agreed. “I’ll stick around too. Keep an eye on her. I have a vacation coming up anyway.”

Sam laughed. “Not much of a vacation.”

“More than you boys get.”

“I’ll hang around too,” Garth offered. Dean shook his head.

“No, no way. You gotta get back to your wife. I won’t put you at risk any more.”

“Are you guys sure? I know she wouldn’t mind.”

Dean nodded. “I’m sure, Garth. You helped a lot.”

“Well I’ll stay until you guys ship out then, make sure someone’s got your back.”

“I would stay, but Alicia—“

“No, Max. We don’t expect you to stay,” Sam said. “You take your sister and you make sure she gets back on her feet. You did everything for us.”

“Where’s Rowena?” Dean wondered aloud.

“She’s back in her room, making some potions for Jody and Alicia, I think,” Garth said.

“I’ll get her,” Sam offered, standing straight and walking out of the room.

 

_“No, Fergus. I can’t believe you’d be so stupid._ ”

_“Don’t you take that tone with me, Mother. You’re the one that let him out in the first place—“_

_“And tried to put him back! Why did you think a vessel would ever hold him?”_

“Guys?” Sam pushed open the door to Rowena’s motel room. Crowley and Rowena were standing in the middle of the room. She was jutting one perfectly manicured finger in his face, a bundle of lush, green leaves in her other fist. They both turned to stare at Sam.

“There something you wanna tell me?” He continued.

“Moose—We have a small problem,” Crowley said haltingly.

Rowena snorted. “I’d say quite a  _large_  problem considering all the trouble these boys went through to fix it the first time,” she mumbled, wandering back to the bowls on the table.

“Care to elaborate on this big problem?” Sam prodded.

“Well—Lucifer.”

“Is back in his cage, right?” Sam asked.

“Not exactly.”

Sam’s jaw twitched a little when his teeth clenched. “Where is he, Crowley?”

“He was in a  _sort_  of cage. I—Put him back in his original vessel and you know, fixed it – so it would cage him without him being locked up. But there was a mistake and – Well he got loose.”

The air seemed to get thicker around Sam. He struggled to draw a breath, his vision swimming as he got lightheaded. Not Lucifer. Not  _again_.

“Sam. Come sit,” Rowena said, grabbing Sam’s arm. She guided him into the chair near the door and touched his forehead. “You don’t look well.”

Sam shook his head, pushing her hand away. “I’m fine, thank you—How did he get loose, Crowley?”

“Well, there was an issue with the cage etching. The—The power control that I had worked into his body kind of… Reversed.”

“Uh-huh. And where is he now?”

“Oh, no idea,” Crowley admitted. “I barely managed to escape just now, and boy I’m lucky.” He hesitated for a moment, seeing Sam’s head hung. “I’m sorry, Sam.”

Sam shook his head. “Don’t know why I expected more from you, Crowley.”

“Sam—“

“Just shut up. Figure out where he is and tell us,” he mumbled, rising and heading to the door. Crowley rushed forward and grabbed his arm.

“I will fix this, Sam.”

“It would’ve already been fixed if you’d put him away like you were supposed to.” Sam jerked his arm out of Crowley’s grip and stormed out of the room, heading back to the room he was sharing with Dean.

 


	7. Tying Up Loose Ends

“We’ll get it all figured out Sam. I need your head in the game here,” Dean scolded. Sam sighed softly, staring at the map spread out on his lap. They were headed back toward Lebanon, figuring a random motel near the bunker was a safer bet than somewhere they’d stayed before.

Toni was unconscious in the back with Mick and Ketch thanks to a strong sleeping potion Rowena made. Donna and Claire were on their way to meet up with the brothers in a few days, after they decided on a plan of action.

***

“What makes you think Hess actually wants Toni back?” Dean asked, passing Mick the phone.

“Because Lady Bevell is a prime asset to the British Men of Letters. She’s good at her job. Why do you think they didn’t really do much in the way of punishment after what she did to Sam?”

“Yeah - she’s still gonna pay for that,” Dean mumbled, glaring over at the bound and gagged Toni in the corner of their motel room.

“Agreed - but first we need her so we can get your mom. Hopefully they haven’t completely brainwashed her yet.”

“What if they have?”

“Then we try to find a way to reverse it,” Ketch said from the other bed, his head down as he cleaned a gun.

“Did you ever get it done?” Dean asked. Ketch glanced up.

“Yes, Mr. Winchester. It was standard procedure.”

“So, what happens? I mean – what does it really do?”

Ketch put the pistol back together without much hesitation, slamming a clip in and setting it aside before wiping the oil from his hands.

“It removes human inhibitions. Affection, sympathy, care, empathy – gone.”

“But—You’ve got all those,” Sam argued.

“Do I, Mr. Winchester?” Ketch asked, dragging his gaze from Dean over to Sam and blinking at him.

“Well, I—“

“I do not, is the correct answer.”

“So then, how—“

“Along with brainwashing, the hunters that come out of Kendricks are taught to fake it when they have to. The perfect sociopath, if you will,” Mick said, rising from the bed. “I’m going to make the call now, if you don’t mind.”

Dean nodded, leaning his hip on the table. He kept his eyes on Ketch, who went back to cleaning the guns quietly as Mick crouched near Sam and put the phone on speaker.

_“This is Dr. Hess. Who is this?”_

“Dr. Hess. It’s your old pal Mick.”

 _“Michael. Where are you? Where’s Lady Bevell?”_  Hess sounded tense at Mick’s voice.

“Oh she’s right here. A bit tied up at the moment. I’m somewhere safe with the Winchesters. As is Mr. Ketch. I assume you found our little message.”

 _“Your_ friends _slaughtered nearly two dozen men and women, Michael. They are murderers.”_

“As are the British Men of Letters, ma’am. With all due respect, The Winchesters only killed those people because  _you_  took Mr. Ketch and I hostage and tortured us.”

_“And you repay the favor by taking Lady Bevell hostage?”_

“Would you rather us have just killed her?” Dean asked. “That can be arranged.” He grabbed his pistol from the table and cocked it near the phone.

 _“No! Please – there’s no need for more bloodshed, Mr. Winchester._ ” Hess startled. Dean rolled his eyes.

“We kept Lady Bevell alive for a reason, Dr. Hess. We would like to make a trade.”

_“A trade?”_

“You have our mother,” Sam said.

_“Mary Winchester. Yes. She’s with us, Mr. Winchester. She is safe.”_

“See, she’s not,” Dean said. “Because we’re going to come for you. We’re going to tear your base apart board by board until we get our mother back. Understand?”

 _“There is no need for more violence,”_  Hess said slowly, as if she was speaking to a child.

“No. There’s a definite need for more violence until you understand that the Winchesters – the American hunters – are not to be trifled with,” Mick spat.

_“We simply want to help.”_

“You want to eradicate, Dr. Hess. We’re giving you a choice. You either agree to a swap: Lady Bevell for Mary Winchester and leave the United States once Lady Bevell is in your possession, or you don’t agree and we all come and take Mary by force,” Mick spelled out, speaking just as slow and condescending as Hess had.

_“Michael, you understand that you are committing the equivalent of treason by speaking the words you’re speaking.”_

“I don’t really believe that he, or I, give a rat’s ass,” Ketch said loudly.

_“Mr. Ketch. You of all people—“_

“Should understand the torture you inflict on people in your company,” Ketch said, rising from the bed and approaching the others. “You have one hour to decide if you’ll take our offer or not. We’ll call back and we expect an answer. Cheerio.” He reached forward and hung up the phone.

“Well that was abrupt,” Dean grumbled.

“She was attempting to trace the call. Disconnecting it disrupted the triangulation. If you want to stay off their radar, you have to think like one of them,” Ketch explained.

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. He cleared his throat, crossing his arms.

Sam glanced between the two then over at Mick, who smirked a little.

“You know what, I think it’s time for a quick lunch. Mick, help me wheel little miss princess into the bathroom then you and me can go get us all something to eat.” Mick nodded, rising and rushing past Dean and Ketch, who still hadn’t moved from their places.

They pushed Toni into the bathroom, double checking to make sure there were no windows or places she could possible escape from, before leaving, letting the door stay ajar in case she made any noise. They snuck out as quickly as possible, Sam snagging the Impala keys on the way.

 

“They’re not very subtle, are they?” Ketch asked when he heard the Impala’s engine fade. Dean chuckled a little.

“Not so much. Guess they uh—Want us to talk or something.”

“Would you like that?” Ketch asked.

“I don’t know. I mean—What is there to talk about?”

Ketch cleared his throat and sat down in the chair Sam had vacated. He set a timer on the phone for an hour and looked up at Dean.

“I know I betrayed you.”

“That’s one way of putting boning my mother and trying to shoot my brother’s boyfriend – and your best friend – in the head.”

Ketch grimaced a little. “I could use the same excuse that I did before: I was just following orders. Though it’s true, I know it isn’t an apology.”

“I don’t want an apology, Ketch,” Dean mumbled, flopping his body into the other chair instead on the table.

“What do you want?”

Dean shook his head, running his fingers along the pockmarked wood of the table. “I don’t know. I—I don’t do emotions and relationships so this is all weird.”

“Nor do I, Mr. Winchester. But I can tell you that what I felt – feel – for you is very different than what I felt for your mother when I slept with her.”

“Oh?”

Ketch reached out, setting his hand over Dean’s. “I find it quite hard to feel emotions, harder to express them, but when you and I were – dating or whatever we were doing – I was happy, Dean. With your mother, I was completing a mission. Aside from the basic animal instinct – I felt nothing for her. And I haven’t felt the same since you and I fought.”

Dean wet his lips, looking up at Ketch.

“It kinda sucked when we fought. A lot. But I feel like if I just forgive you you’ll—Hurt me or Sam again.”

Ketch nodded. “I understand your hesitation. I’m not asking for your forgiveness, Dean. I don’t expect it, nor do I deserve it. But I will ask for a second chance. Watch me closer, don’t trust me, if you feel it’s too difficult, but allow me to earn your trust and forgiveness in a slower fashion.”

“So like probation dating,” Dean teased. A smile curled Ketch’s mouth and he nodded.

“I suppose you could call it that. Do we have a deal?”

Dean chewed on his bottom lip, searching Ketch’s face for any sign of deceit or resistance. Finding none, he nodded.

“Deal.”

Ketch smiled a little. “So. What do we do now?”

Dean leaned forward a little, reaching out and touching Ketch’s wrist. He was wearing one of Dean’s t-shirts, the bruises and cuts on his arms visible.

“I got a little scared, you know. When I thought they might kill you.”

“You were angry with me.”

“We still had something,” Dean admitted.

Ketch’s lips quirked upward for a brief moment. “Is that an admittance of love, Mr. Winchester?”

“God no. I don’t do  _love_ , Ketch. It’s just not me.”

“Well I am relieved at that.” Dean scowled.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I mean that while I feel deeply for you on a physical and emotional level, and those feelings may or may not resemble the human construct of love, labelling any of it as such feels rather uncomfortable.”

Dean’s shoulders relaxed, a smile crossing his face. “So you get it. Good, I—I don’t know. That’s messed up a lot of relationships.”

“Is this a relationship then? Officially?”

Dean leaned a little more toward Ketch, sliding forward in his chair so their knees bumped. “I’d like it to be.”

“As would I,” Ketch whispered.

Dean closed the gap between their mouths, reaching up and holding the back of Ketch’s neck. Their lips slotted together perfectly, muscle memory tilting their heads in just the right direction as Dean’s tongue teased Ketch’s lips.

They separated only when they desperately needed air, locking gazes. “Bed?” Dean panted.

“What about our prisoner?”

Dean shrugged. “She can’t see us. Come on, we still have,” he glanced at the phone timer, “forty-five minutes.”

“Your brother and Mick could come back at any moment.”

“Their problem.” Dean rose and fisted Ketch’s shirt, pulling him up and shoving him toward the bed until they both toppled onto it.

Their lips crashed together, teeth clicking as they scrambled further onto the bed, hands tugging at each other’s shirts and jeans.

Ketch succeeded at the goal first, snagging the edges of Dean’s flannel and yanking. The threads snapped, buttons flying in various directions and clattering. Dean chuckled.

“You’re fixing this shirt.”

“Just get out of it,” Ketch grumbled, leaning up and clamping his teeth down on Dean’s bobbing Adam’s apple.

“Bossy—“ Dean gasped. He obeyed though, stripping out of the ruined flannel and then his t-shirt, grabbing the hem of Ketch’s and shoving it up. He raked his short nails down Ketch’s chest, earning a half-pained grunt when he caught some bruises on his ribs.

“Gentle, Mr. Winchester.”

“Oh don’t whine. I know you like it rough,” Dean murmured against Ketch’s throat.

“So do you,” Ketch shot back. He shoved Dean up and flipped them, wrestling Dean onto his stomach. Without waiting for Dean to speak, he reached around, unhooking Dean’s jeans and yanking them just low enough to expose him to the cool air of the room.

“Jesus, fuck—“ Dean gasped when Ketch’s hand came down on the swell of his left ass cheek.

“Problem, Mr. Winchester?”

Dean looked back at him, his cheeks mottled red. “Sure know how to butter a guy up.”

“Is this not what you wanted?”

Dean smirked, arching his ass a little further. “It’s  _exactly_  what I wanted. Hurry up – don’t want Sammy to catch us.”

“Why not? Don’t want your sweet little brother to see how needy you get?” Ketch teased, running his thumb over Dean’s hole. Dean growled against the pillow.

“You’re still on thin ice, Ketch, remember that,” he warned without much venom.

Ketch chuckled, the sound vibrating against Dean’s back where his chest was pressed. “Where’s your lube, Dean?”

“My bag, asshole,” Dean grumbled, smirking a little. Ketch rose, swatting his ass again before wandering to the duffel bags. He glanced into the slightly open bathroom, smirking when he found Toni glaring at him. She moved her mouth, trying to speak through her bindings. Ketch’s grin widened and he winked at her, wiggling the bottle of lube where she could see it before heading back to Dean. He stripped out of his clothes on the way, watching as Dean wiggled out of his jeans and kicked the covers down on the bed.

“Ready?” Ketch asked. Dean looked back at him, his smile relaxed and easy.

“I missed this.”

“Sex?” Dean snorted, spreading his legs and settling onto his knees when Ketch pushed at his thighs.

“With you, moron.”

Instead of responding, Ketch leaned down, pressing a kiss to Dean’s spine. He slicked his fingers and pushed one into Dean slowly, stretching the tight ring of muscle as he did.

Dean sighed into the pillow, his eyes fluttering shut.

Ketch worked him loose quickly and efficiently, leaving Dean wiggling on the bed and groaning softly for more within ten minutes.

“I’m  _ready_ ,” he finally huffed when Ketch could easily slip three fingers in.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, please – Sam’s gonna come back before we can finish at this rate and I  _will_  smack you if you keep me from coming.”

“Oh, the empty threats, Mr. Winchester,” Ketch teased, withdrawing his fingers.

Dean reached back and gripped his ass, spreading himself open. Ketch hesitated for a moment, running his thumb over Dean’s fluttering hole.

“Come  _on_ , man.”

Ketch sighed and leaned over, pressing a kiss to Dean’s shoulder. He lubed his cock and began to press in slowly, dragging a moan out of both of them.

Ketch began to move as soon as Dean had adjusted, picking up a quick, rough pace. The bedframe groaned under their weight, headboard banging the wall dangerously hard. Dean slapped his hand against the mattress, shouting when Ketch’s cock slid against his prostate. Ketch grunted in approval, his teeth grazing Dean's shoulder. He shifted his hips, twisting to nudge Dean's spot on each inward thrust. 

"One thing I couldn't ever forget: how nice you sound screaming," Ketch panted. 

Dean's voice was strained as he tossed his head back, sobbing brokenly. "Harder--" he said, reaching back to hold Ketch's neck. 

"Begging suits you," Ketch teased, slowing his thrusts to a lazy rolling of his hips. 

Dean groaned, bucking his hips back. "Tease later,  _please_ \-- Ketch, I-- I need you," he pleaded.

"And what do you need exactly, Mr. Winchester?" 

Dean turned his head enough to glare at Ketch. "You're an asshole."

Ketch smirked. He leaned up, slowly pulling out of Dean.

"Your cock!" Dean begged, clenching around him before he slipped free. "I need your cock, I need you to fuck me, please!"

"That's what I wanted," Ketch praised. He grabbed Dean's hips and began to slam in again. 

Dean went silent under him, his head hanging. His knuckles were white as he fisted the sheets, muscles in his forearms bulging with the strain of keeping himself on all fours.

Ketch wrapped his hand around Dean's throat, lifting him up so his chest was pressed against Dean's back. He continued to fuck Dean open, giving a little twist of his hips on every inward thrust. Dean's head fell back onto Ketch's shoulder, a tear slipping out from under his closed eyelids. 

"Tell me how much you're enjoying this," Ketch demanded, his voice gravelly in Dean's ear. 

Dean wet his lips, drawing in a ragged breath. 

"So fucking big. Please, fuck me, Ketch - it's perfect," he panted.

"Where do you want me to come?" Ketch asked.

"Inside! I need it inside, I-- I wanna feel it--"

"Keep speaking," Ketch whispered. He bit down on Dean's shoulder, sucking a bruise into the sweat slicked skin. Dean continued to talk, begging Ketch to fill him up, fuck him open, pound him, even praising him for how good it felt. 

Ketch grunted softly and Dean smirked. He pushed back to drive Ketch as deep as he could go,  clenching and relaxing his ass. Ketch's cock throbbed as he came, his fingers biting into Dean's hips. 

He continued to talk softly, moaning and begging for every drop as Ketch's body jerked against him. 

"Come for me, Mr. Winchester," Ketch growled, his cock still twitching with the remnants of his orgasm. 

Dean began to grind his hips back against Ketch, reaching down to stroke his aching cock. Precome slicked the path of his hand and he whimpered Ketch's name. 

"I've got you, Dean-- I won't go anywhere again," Ketch whispered. He wrapped one arm around Dean's chest, sliding his other down to play with Dean's tight balls. 

"That's perfect. That-- Oh!" Dean came, his entire body jerking forward. Ketch held him up, murmuring in his ear, pushing Dean's hand away and stroking him through his orgasm. 

 

The door to the hotel room opened just as Dean slumped forward, his legs splayed open and come leaking from his well-used ass.

“Are you two dece—Jesus Christ, Dean!” Sam cried.

“My apologies, Sam, Mick,” Ketch said, smirking a little

Mick was chuckling a little, his face in his free hand. The other was holding a bag of food.

Dean looked over, grinning at Sam’s closed eyes and bright red face. “Did you get burgers?”

“You’re not getting a crumb until you shower. This place reeks of sex. Did you forget we have a guest?” Sam scolded, plunking the bag he was holding onto the table.

“Nope. Just didn’t care. She can’t see us.”

“But I know she could hear you, we heard you.”

Dean’s nose wrinkled in thought. “How long have you guys been standing there?”

“About ten minutes. Once it got quiet we figured you were done.”

“Well, you weren’t incorrect,” Ketch said, leaning over the side of the bed to grab his clothes. He scowled when he realized his jeans were out of reach. “Um, Mick—Would you—“

Mick rushed over and grabbed his boxers and jeans, tossing them to him.

Sam sat down, scowling a little and picking up something from the table.

“Got a little excited?” He asked, holding up one of the buttons from Dean’s flannel. Dean smirked.

“What can I say? It’s been a while. Come on, hand me the food so I don’t have to show you my dick again.”

“Dude – at least wash your hands.”

“Why? It’s my come.”

Sam grimaced and shook his head. “Go. Wash. Be a civilized human.”

Dean groaned, sitting up and getting off the bed. Sam covered his face again. “And stop waving that thing around – I’d like to eat at some point.”

“Aw, you’re just jealous cause mine’s bigger,” Dean teased, tugging on his boxers before following Ketch toward the bathroom.

“Actually Sam’s is thicker,” Mick said casually, pulling the food from the bags.

“Mick,” Sam hissed. Dean turned back, looking his brother up and down. He shrugged.

“I can see it. Is mine longer?” He asked.

“Dean,” Sam whined, sounding much younger than almost thirty-four.

“A bit,” Mick admitted. Dean grinned, smug, before entering the bathroom. He pushed Toni back into the main room and Sam smirked.

“Enjoy the little show?” He asked, walking up to her and pulling the gag out of her mouth. She wet her lips, glaring.

“I can’t believe those two.”

Sam shrugged. “They’ve been fighting and made up. I’m glad they did it. Plus, you don’t matter in the long run.”

Toni narrowed her eyes. “And why is that?”

Sam crouched, leaning close to her. “Because I don’t care what Hess says. My brother’s going to kill you for what you’ve done.”

Toni clenched her jaw, staring Sam down. He only smiled, standing up again and patting her on the top of the head before walking back to the table.

Mick laughed a little. “You know, Sam, you can be a real asshole.”

“I know. Come here.” Sam pulled him into hard kiss, running his fingers through Mick’s hair.

Dean grunted when he came out of the bathroom. “You two get a room if you wanna play tonsil hockey.”

“Says the guy who just fucked in front of our prisoner,” Sam mumbled, leaning back into the kiss after speaking.

Dean rolled his eyes and grabbed the food Sam had set aside for him and Ketch, taking a seat on the bed. Ketch sat with him, eating quietly until the phone rang.

Mick grabbed it first, clearing his throat before answering it and putting it on speaker.

“Gag her,” Dean mumbled, glaring over at Toni. Ketch rose, pushing the handkerchief they’d been using as a gag back into her mouth and securing it more tightly around the back of her head.

“Dr. Hess. Have you considered our offer?” Mick asked.

_“Where are the Winchesters, Michael?”_

“Right here beside me. They can hear you too.”

_“Sam and Dean - we have your mother here.”_

“Let us talk to her,” Dean said.

 _“As you wish.”_  There was a scratching noise as the phone was passed over. Mary cleared her throat.

_“Sam, Dean?”_

“We’re here Mom. We’re gonna get you away from them,” Sam assured her.

_“No. I’ve changed. I’m not good to be around you boys anymore.”_

“You’re our Mom— That doesn’t change,” Dean argued.

_“But it does. I’m a hunter. Through and through, Dean. There’s no way around that now that they—“_

“Brainwashed you,” Ketch filled in.

 _“Ketch? Is that you?”_  Mary asked.

“Yeah, Mom, he’s with us now. So’s Mick. We can get you back, please give us that chance.”

_“They will let you live if you just return Lady Bevell and go away.”_

“No they won’t, Mom. You know how these guys work,” Sam argued. There was silence for a moment. Finally, Mary sighed.

_“I don’t want you boys in trouble. Or in danger because of me. If you continue to pursue the British Men of Letters - they will completely wipe out my memories and emotions relating to you two. And they will send me after you. Let Lady Bevell go, and leave yourselves. Before you get hurt.”_

The phone thunked onto a table.

“Mom?” Dean asked softly, blinking quickly.

There was another rustling.

_“So, Winchesters, Michael, and Mr. Ketch - Do we have a deal?”_

“What deal? You forced her to say that,” Sam spat.

_“I assure you I did not. Bring Lady Bevell to the front gates of the temporary Men of Letters base. Then turn around and leave and you will be spared. You have ten hours to comply.”_

“Ten hours - we’re not gonna be able to get there in that amount of time,” Dean argued, trying to buy time.

 _“On the contrary, Mr. Winchester - We are aware that you are somewhere in Kansas. We’re just not sure where, otherwise we would already have Lady Bevell back in our possession. Ten hours should be more than enough time. Goodbye.”_  Dr. Hess disconnected and Dean swore, punching the wall hard enough to dent the sheetrock.

Ketch rose, setting his hands on Dean’s shoulders. “We’ll figure this out.”

“Was she lying, Ketch? Could they do that to our Mom?”

“Yes. I’m honestly surprised they haven’t gone through with the full emotional wipe already. They did it to me quite quickly.”

“So you weren’t always—“

“A sociopath? Not at all. I used to be quite the emotional child - you can ask Mick.”

Mick chuckled a little. “He was a real riot. I’ll tell you some stories sometime.”

Ketch nodded toward him. “See? But the good news is that they haven’t. And that means she can still be saved. We just need to move quickly and carefully. Alright? You  _must_  keep a cool head right now.”

Dean closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

“Alright, so who do we have that’ll be able to get here in a few hours?” Sam asked.

Dean shook his head. “Not many people, honestly. I think Donna’s close still. I’d say Rowena but I think she was going with Max and Alicia to try and teach them some new things and talk to their Mom… Crowley, he’d be glad to help.”

“Alright, you call Crowley and I’ll get ahold of Donna.”

Dean crossed his arms. “Why do  _I_  always have to call Crowley? You do it.”

“Because Crowley and you used to fuck,” Sam said, his eyebrows shooting up. Dean made an inhuman noise - a cross between a huff, a whimper, and a growl.

“We did  _not_  have sex.”

“The story Crowley tells is different and you  _were_  a demon,” Sam argued, smirking.

“I was still  _me_.”

“You and Crowley were best friends for that summer, Dean. It doesn’t matter - I’m not holding it against you.”

“Damnit Sam,” Dean threw his arms out. “Look, we had sex with some triplets, okay? We were in the same room and may or may not have fucked the same guy. But his dick never went into my ass.”

Sam’s eyes narrowed a little, trying to decide if Dean was telling the truth.

“Alright, I believe you. Still - Crowley and you have  _always_  been closer. It’s just how you two are. Call him, please?”

“I warned you the next time I saw him I was going to tear his arms off for letting Lucifer out,” Dean argued.

“Bigger problems right now, Dean.”

“Bigger than Lucifer?” Mick asked. Sam shrugged.

“In the grand scheme of things? We’ve dealt with Lucifer before. I’m a little more worried about them turning our mother into a Cyberman.”

Mick’s eyes narrowed. “Really? Doctor Who jokes now? I’m offended, Mr. Winchester.”

Sam couldn’t help but grin. “Well, it’s not an entirely incorrect comparison from what Ketch has described. Just eat, I’m gonna call Donna while Dean calls his boyfriend here.”

Dean swung, catching Sam in the ribs with a loose fist. He huffed and dug his phone out of his pocket, grumbling about asshole brothers as he walked out the door.

***

“Well shit. Small-scale déjà vu,” Dean joked, crossing his arms.

Donna was sitting at the table in the small motel room, going over a hand drawn map of the Men of Letters base with Mick. Crowley was seated on one of the beds, rubbing the side of his face where Dean had punched him. He knew he deserved it but, as Sam said when he and Ketch had pulled Dean back – bigger problems.

Toni was still tied to her chair, gagged and glowering at everyone in the room. Sam was sitting on the other bed with Ketch, sorting and cleaning their weapons.

“Think we can do this? Honestly?” Sam asked. Ketch shrugged.

“You mentioned a number of guards at the place we were being held. Unless they flew in extra men – which is highly unlikely – the massacre saving us depleted their numbers greatly. They haven’t had time to fly in more.”

“Is Hess expecting us to put up a fight?”

“I don’t know,” Ketch admitted. “The good news is that you gentlemen left no survivors. No one to tell Hess about the small army you had. Now, she may have guessed you had help, but she has no idea who.”

“Probably assumes it was just a group of hunters,” Dean said and Ketch nodded.

“We were aware of your dealings with the demon – but we were unaware that a friendship had formed between you three. That works in your advantage.”

“Yours too, Ketch,” Sam said softly. Ketch said nothing, but his fingers stilled on the gun he was cleaning.

Sam reached over and squeezed his wrist, making him look up.

“I mean it. We’ve had issues, but you’re one of us, man. Same as Mick and everyone else. You know that, don’t you?”

“I’m not one of you, Mr. Winchester. You and Dean – even Mick – you’re all such good men. I am nothing more than a killer.”

“I shot four people in cold blood yesterday and slit the throat of a boy that couldn’t have been more than twenty-one,” Dean said, meeting Ketch’s eyes. “Sam probably did in just about the same number. You might be a killer, Ketch. But so are we. We do a lot for what we believe is right. You had a job and you did it. You were  _forced_  into it. I told you earlier and I’ll tell you again – I will not against you any more.”

Ketch cleared his throat, shifting his position and going back to cleaning the gun without another word. Sam smiled a little and looked up at Dean, who gave a barely there shrug.

“You know,” Donna began when the room had been quiet for a while. “How do we know they won’t just bring in more of these British people?”

“We don’t,” Dean said, sitting on the bed that Crowley was on. “But we have to hope. And just keep fighting if they do.”

“I don’t believe they will,” Mick said. “Not if we make it clear we’re not to be trifled with.”

“Murdering most of their hunters in two hours wasn’t making that clear?” Dean joked without humor.

“Murdering Dr. Hess and Lady Bevell will,” Mick said. Toni began to protest through the gag, wiggling in her chair.

“Do we have to kill her?” Sam asked softly. All eyes in the room turned to him.

“Sam – After what she did to you?” Dean asked.

“I know. I know.”

“And Ketch and Mick and Mom – and God knows who else—Why would you want to spare her?”

Sam wet his lips and shrugged. “Because she’s a person.”

“She’s a monster, Sam. Don’t. Don’t do this to yourself,” Dean pleaded. Sam frowned, tilting his head.

“Do what?”

Dean stood and grabbed Sam’s upper arm, tugging him to his feet. “Come on. We gotta chat in private.”

“I—“ Sam started to protest.

“I can handle the guns and I’m sure the four of us can handle the completely bound woman,” Ketch said quickly. Dean smiled gratefully at him before pulling Sam outside and over to the Impala.

“Get in.”

“Going for a drive?” Sam joked, climbing into the passenger seat. Dean got in the driver’s seat and turned so he was facing Sam.

“I need you to listen up, Sammy. And I mean  _really_  listen. More than you ever have before.”

“Okay…”

“Stop caring so much.”

Sam pulled back, his bottom lip pouting out a little in confusion. “What—“

“Stop caring. You are the most selfless, sweet, caring guy I know, and that’s great. It makes you who you are, Sam. It makes you a good hunter, a good friend – a better person than ninety five percent of the human population. But it also clouds your judgement.”

“Dean, I—“

“I’m not done,” Dean said quickly, holding up a finger.

“I don’t want you to stop caring completely. You’re my brother and it’d kill me if you changed that much. But just this once. With Toni and Hess and the Brits – I need you to let me take the reins, okay? Trust me.”

“I do trust you, Dean,” Sam whispered.

“Then trust me when I say that Hess and Toni need to die. They aren’t human. They’re less human than Crowley in there. Because at least he has a sense of right and wrong, even if he ignores it. They’re the real monsters this season, Sammy. Okay?”

Sam looked do at his lap, the muscle in his cheek twitching as he ground his teeth together in thought.

“Sam.”

Sam nodded, looking back up. “Okay. I trust you, Dean. I know you’re right, I just—“

“Don’t want to become a monster,” Dean filled in. Sam’s shoulders sagged a little and Dean knew he’d hit a nerve.

“I just—The demon blood and—“

“You’re a human, Sammy. You’re Sam Winchester. You were born in 1983. You’re a hunter, you’ve had broken arms and sprained fingers. You peed in my face when I was five years old trying to change your diaper. You’re Stanford educated and a damn genius. You’re a hero. Yeah, you have demon blood in you and you used to have powers and Lucifer used to wanna ride around in you – but you. Are. Human. You’re  _good_ , Sam.”

Sam shut his eyes, trying to hide the tears welling in them. Dean reached out, grabbing Sam’s shoulder and giving it a squeeze.

“Come on, let’s get back in there. We gotta get on the road soon I want a plan firmly in place before we do.”

Sam nodded, sniffling once before blinking away the tears. He got out and fixed his shirt, hearing Dean circle around the car.

He touched Sam’s shoulder once more. “You believe me, right?”

“What?”

“What I said.”

Sam smiled a little. He shook his head. “No. I mean – I want to. I know you believe it. And I—I’ll work on it. It’ll just take time.”

Dean nodded. “That’s all I need. And that you follow my lead for this, okay?”

Sam nodded again, more firmly this time. “Yes. I—For this, I know you’re right even if feel weird about it.”

Dean smiled, squeezing Sam’s arm. “Come on,” he said, leading him back into the motel room.

***

“You realize this plan is absolutely insane,” Toni mumbled from between Ketch and Mick in the backseat of the sturdy truck they were crammed into.

“Yep. That’s why it’ll work,” Dean said simply, driving toward the closed gate of the Men of Letters base. As the distance between the truck and the gates lessened, Dean pressed his foot down on the gas pedal. Sam grabbed the side of the door and the dash, bracing himself for the impact that rocked them all forward when Dean slammed through the chain link fence.

The four men hopped out of the cab, Ketch dragging Toni along. At the same moment, Crowley appeared, Donna in tow.

“Well that was not as pleasant as I’d hoped it would be,” Donna said, and Crowley smirked a little.

“My apologies – I tried to make you comfortable.” Donna chuckled, clearing her throat and pulling her gun out. They all dropped down when the gunfire began, scattering behind vehicles.

“No survivors. Save Hess for us,” Dean called, dipping lower as a bullet whizzed past his ear.

Donna nodded, crouched near Crowley and Mick.

Sam, Toni, and Ketch were near Dean, making sure their guns were at the ready. Sam reached over and tied a handkerchief back around Toni’s mouth to keep her silent.

“Crowley, any fucking time,” Dean spat.

“Oh get your panties out of a twist, Squirrel,” Crowley teased, winking at him before standing. He walked out from behind the car, wincing when a bullet caught him in the side. He flung his arm out, sending the soldier that shot him flying into the side of the building. Sam raised himself up just enough to fire off a shot into the soldier’s head.

“Excellent aim, Mr. Winchester,” Ketch praised. Sam smirked a little and shrugged. He grabbed Toni and hauled her up, dragging her beside him as he ran with the others, fanning out and shooting anything that moved outside of their group.

Together they worked their way up to the front door of the main building. Crowley grabbed the handle, ripping it off easily. Donna chuckled.

“Can we have him around more often? He makes hunting a heck of a lot easier,” she joked.

Sam chuckled, slamming directly into Crowley’s back when he tried to enter.

“Uh, move?”

Crowley looked up, drawing everyone’s attention to the devils trap painted on the ceiling.

“I may make hunting easier but I do have my limitations. Go ahead without me.”

“Sam, stay back and get him loose, okay?” Dean said. Sam nodded, grabbing the knife out of his jeans and shoving his gun into his pocket. Dean and the others pressed forward in a tight circle around Toni. They moved as quickly as they could, popping off shots when they saw the movement of other Men of Letters.

 

Sam and Crowley caught up when the others hit the meeting room. Crowley pushed forward, kicking the metal door open easily. Dr. Hess cried out when they poured in, Mick and Dean shooting the two guards in the room with her. They trained their guns on her, pinning her against the wall.

“Where’s our mother?” Dean asked.

“I’m right here, Dean,” Mary’s voice came from the corner. She was tied to a chair, electrodes connected to her head. Dean set his gun down and rushed to her, pulling them off.

“Mom, are you still—You?”

“Mostly, I think,” she said softly.

“If I let you go are you gonna shoot me?” He clarified and Mary chuckled.

“No.”

Dean glanced over at Ketch. His eyes narrowed before he nodded.

“Believe her. She wouldn’t lie. Not if she was truly converted.” Dean nodded as well and freed Mary’s arms. He guided her over behind the group.

“Not gonna give you a gun though, hope you understand. Just until we can sit down and really see what’s going on.”

Marry nodded, hanging her head. Dean stepped up to the front of the group with Sam, training his gun back on Hess. He pushed Toni forward.

“There’s your trade.”

“You boys are foolish. The massacre—How could you?” Hess snapped, undoing Toni’s wrists.

“You were killing hunters for no reason other than you didn’t like the way we worked. You tried to kill Mick and Ketch just because they preferred our way. We had – have – a reason,” Sam said. His voice was eerily calm, hands steady.

“You’re going to call your superiors over in Britain, okay?” Dean motioned to the phone on the desk.

“Why would I do that?”

Dean raised his gun a few inches and fired off a shot directly above Hess’ head.

“Because we’re going to kill you if you don’t.”

She jumped, raising her hands. Moving slowly, she walked toward the table, pressing a series of buttons on the phone’s dial pad. It began to ring, answered after three by a man with a smoke roughened voice.

_“Report.”_

“Sir—I—Have Lady Bevell.”

_“Splendid. Are the Winchesters dead?”_

“No, Sir,” Hess stuttered.

_“Why not? Your orders were to eliminate on sight.”_

“Well she didn’t really get that chance,” Dean said. The phone was silent for a moment.

_“Mr. Winchester. Which am I speaking to?”_

“Both of us,” Sam said. “Plus others. All your men are dead, except the doctor here, and Toni.”

_“Was that necessary, Mr. Winchester?”_

Dean’s fingers tightened on the gun – this guy’s tone was as condescending as it could be.

“To get you guys out of our lives for good? Yeah,” Dean spat.

 _“I’m still not sure that you gentlemen understand our reasoning. We only want to_ help _the American citizens. Our way is better.”_

“Your way is crap. You torture and kill innocent people. You are  _not_  welcome here,” Sam said.

_“You have no say in that, Mr. Winchester. We will send more men.”_

“And we will kill them. Just like we killed this group. You did teach us one thing. How to run an army. And we have that army now, you arrogant  _bastard_. We have a network of hunters now and we will spread the word to slaughter  _any_  British Man of Letters on sight. How’s that feel?”

The line was silent for a long time before the man spoke again, clearing his throat.

_“You are making a big mistake, Mr. Winchester.”_

“No,” Dean said, “you made a mistake when you fucked with the American hunters.” He raised the gun and fired a single shot.

Toni’s head snapped backwards, a perfectly circular hold forming between her eyes. A thin dribble of deep red ran down the side of her nose as she collapsed to the ground.

 _“Stop! There’s no need for more bloodshed_ ,” the man on the line pleaded.

“But that’s what you don’t understand, Old Man,” Sam said. “We never wanted to do this. You drove us to it. You did this to your people. Step foot in America one more time and we will murder. Every. Single. One. Of you.”

Sam fired as well, hitting Dr. Hess in the chest. Red bloomed on her white suit as she stumbled back a moment before collapsing next to Toni’s corpse.

“Have we made ourselves clear?” He asked the man on the phone.

 _“Perfectly clear, Mr. Winchester._ ”

“Great. Nice talk. Don’t worry about gathering the bodies. We’ll give them a burning.” Dean stepped forward and hung up the phone, looking back at Sam.

Sam looked at the corpses surrounding them. His entire body went slack, the gun sliding from his fingers and clattering on the ground. His breath pushed out of his lungs, face going pale.

“Sam?” Dean asked softly, stepping forward. Sam shook his head, stumbling a little, overwhelmed.

“It’s over—“

Mick and Crowley rushed forward, helping Dean catch him as his knees gave out.


	8. Angelus Devictus

“How’s he doing, Mick?” Dean asked again, glancing back at Mick in the rearview.

“He’s alright, breathing deep and his heartbeat is strong and steady.” Dean turned his head, scowling a little at the passed out visage of his baby brother.

“Do you have any idea what’s wrong with him?” Mary asked.

Dean shook his head. “No. I mean – he hasn’t really been eating much since Mick and Ketch got kidnapped. And sleeping has been minimal, but that’s normal for a few days. As far as I know before this he was okay.”

“He wasn’t,” Mick said softly.

Dean glanced back. “What?”

“Sam wasn’t sleeping well at night – hasn’t been since I moved in with you lot at the bunker.”

Dean’s shoulders slumped as he pulled into the parking lot of the motel they were staying in.

“Why didn’t I know this?”

“Sam asked me not to tell you. He said you had too much to worry about and if you knew he couldn’t sleep you’d just worry for no reason. You’re my friend, Mr. Winchester but my loyalty lies with Sam first.”

Dean chuckled a little, almost sadly. “I know how that is. I won’t fault you for it. So there’s a chance he’s just exhausted. Needs rest.”

“It is quite possible,” Mick said, checking Sam’s pulse once more.

“Alright, well then we wake him up. I need to know he’s okay and that psycho bitch didn’t put some whammy on him before we ganked her.”

“It is doubtful,” Ketch said.

“But there is a small chance,” Mick added.

“Smelling salts, those will work to wake him if he’s simply passed out from exhaustion,” Ketch said, snapping his fingers.

“I think we have some in the trunk of the Impala,” Dean said. He leaned back further and passed his keys to Donna. “You wanna go check? Should be a first aid kit back there that’d have ‘em.”

Donna nodded and got out while Dean pointed to Mick. “Mind watching Mom for a bit while we get Sam situated and get a second room?”

“Not a problem.”

“I don’t need to be watched like a child, Dean. I’m not going anywhere.”

“I’m sorry, Mom. I don’t know how bad they screwed with your brain. Until we can make sure you’re you—“

Mary shook her head. “I suppose those hunter instincts don’t let up even for family.”

Dean wet his lips and glanced back at Sam. “Sometimes they do. But this isn’t one of those times.”

***

The six piled into the motel room, Sam on the bed. Donna had the first aid kit and Dean passed the keys to the room next door to Mary before sitting on the bed next to Sam. Donna came over with the small vial. He snagged it and tugged it open, waving it under Sam’s nose. His nostrils flared and he jerked for a second, his eyes squeezing tighter.

“Come on, Sam, wake the fuck up,” Dean growled, his nerves beginning to show. He shoved vial closer and this time Sam’s eyes snapped open, his hand coming up to knock Dean away from his face.

“Whoa, relax,” Dean scolded without much venom, setting his hands on Sam’s shoulders. Sam grimaced, blinking sleepily.

“What the hell happened?”

“That’s what I wanna know. You passed out man. When was the last time you got some good rest, and actually ate more than a few bites of rabbit food?”

Sam’s upper lip lifted in a weak snarl. He sat up, pushing Dean off him and burying his face in his hands for a moment.

“I’m okay – the stress probably just got to me.”

“You sure? I can’t have you doing that, Sam. You scared the crap out of me.”

Sam looked over at Dean and nodded. “I’m okay. You’re right, I haven’t been eating right.”

“Or sleeping,” Mick said, crossing his arms. Sam tried to glare but ended up chuckling.

“A couple of days and I’ll be golden. It’ll take us that long to make that device for Cas anyway.”

“And some good food,” Donna said, standing. She grabbed the truck keys. “Why don’t I go get us some.”

“Actually, Mom and Ketch – will you two go? I need to talk to you about something, Donna.”

Ketch shrugged, taking the keys from Donna’s hands. “The usual?”

“And extra meaty for Sammy,” Dean teased, grinning wider when Sam punched him in the shoulder. “I’ll wake you up when the food comes,” he said, squeezing Sam’s shoulder.

Ketch and Mary left before he traded places with Mick and went to sit by Donna.

“Do you think Sam’s going to be okay? Really?”

Dean looked over, smiling a little at his already sleeping brother. “Yeah, I do. This whole thing – it’s taken a lot out of him. And I think all the killing and stress—He just needs to rest.”

“Don’t you have other things to do? Big things?”

Dean nodded slowly. “Saving the world again, just another Thursday.”

Donna shook her head, reaching over and setting her hand on Dean’s shoulder. “You and Sam – you’re heroes, you know.”

“So we’ve been told. I wanted to thank you for your help today.”

“It was my pleasure. You boys have helped me a lot. Do you want me to stay a few days until you all feel safe going back to the bunker? Might be nice to have another pair of eyes on your mom – make sure she’s okay.”

“Ketch can take care of our mom. He knows what it’s like.”

“But you two just made up,” Donna said, offering an understanding smile. “I figured you might want to actually sleep in the same room.”

Dean chuckled. “I guess so but, I don’t want to keep you from anything.”

“A boring job in a boring town. Not a big loss to me, Dean.”

Dean squeezed her wrist, nodding. “You’re amazing, Donna.”

“I’m just me.”

Dean shrugged. “Well you is pretty awesome.”

“You didn’t make me stay here just to thank me. There’s something else bugging you isn’t there?”

“Yeah, and normally—I’d talk to Sam about it but, well…”

“What’s up?”

“Ketch and my Mom.”

Donna scowled. Dean began to fidget instead of continuing right away. He rose and grabbed his gun and cleaning supplies from his duffel, sitting back down. He was in the middle of taking apart the weapon when he finally spoke.

“They fucked. And—Ketch says it was because he was under orders. I believe him. But Mom doesn’t know me and Ketch are whatever the hell we are. Or that Sam and Mick are together. I mean she might have her suspicions but—“

“But you don’t want it to freak her out.”

“Well, considering we just grabbed her from her Stockholm Syndrome captors – Big news like, oh by the way both your sons are gay – it might set her off.”

“Then don’t tell her. Let her figure it out on her own,” Donna suggested. Dean shrugged. “I guess.”

“I just think you boys have bigger things to worry about. If that’s her main concern she’s got a real priority problem.”

Dean laughed a little. “You got a point.”

***

Ketch and Mary returned with the food nearly half an hour later. She sat down at the table, pulling out food for everyone. Dean scooted a little closer and grabbed her wrist lightly.

“How are  _you_  doing?”

Mary shrugged. “I think I’m okay. I—Still feel off. Like I should be out there killing something or—Something. Not sitting here with a bunch of civilians.”

“We’re far from civilians, Mom.”

“But it’s what she’s been trained to think about American hunters,” Ketch said from the bed. His food was sitting next to him, abandoned in favor of a whetstone and knife.

“Can we fix her?” Dean asked.

“I’m not a tool to be fixed, Dean,” Mary snapped and he scowled a little.

“I beg to differ. Right now you are. You used to be human.”

Mary shook her head, leaning back. “You just don’t understand how it feels.”

“How what feels?”

“To  _have_  to hunt. To put hunting over anything else in your life. That’s what they did – that was what I needed to be truly happy.”

A flash of pain crossed Dean’s face at her words. He buried it with a stoic expression then and nodded, letting her wrist go. “Then go hunt. Just don’t bring the Brits back on our heads.”

“Dean, I didn’t mean that.”

“Yeah, you did. Because that’s the kind of thing you said even before they brainwashed you.” Dean rose and kicked his chair in, crawling onto the bed behind Ketch. He reached around him and grabbed a spare whetstone.

Ketch grabbed his wrist, turning his head just enough that their eyes could meet. The silence in the room dragged on, heavy with awkward tension. Donna watched Ketch and Dean; they seemed to be having a conversation without even moving their mouths. Mick was leaned against the door, glaring at the floor with his arms crossed while Mary poked at her burger, hair fallen in front of her face.

“So, how do you guys intend to build this little angel thing you’ve got planning?” Donna asked, wanting to break up the silence. She took a bite of her burger, looking pointedly at Dean for an answer. He cleared his throat, looking away from Ketch and over to her.

“Ketch and Mick know most of the details – and we have the plans in our cabin up in Montana. We just have to go up there and actually build the damn thing.”

“And find the angel. That could prove to be a dilemma,” Ketch mumbled.

“Can’t you just do a spell or something? Or have Crowley search for him?” Donna asked.

“In theory – yes. But if the Nephilim is protecting him – he may be harder to track.”

“We’ll figure it out. Some of us can work on building the thing while the others work on tracking Cas,” Dean said.

“And Sam can get some rest,” Mick added.

“Well you know Sammy. He won’t rest for too long. But hopefully the few days it’ll take us to get from there to there will be long enough.”

“Why not just go back to the bunker?” Mary asked.

“We could – Now that the British threat is neutralized – but all of our stuff is in the cabin. Why move and waste more time going to get it then headed back here?”

“And some of the things are less than simple to find,” Mick explained further.

Dean nodded. “Alright, so we finish up eating, head to bed, and tomorrow we get breakfast and move out – you  _can_  back out of this, Donna.”

“I know. I want to at least help you guys with the machine. Depending on how long that takes, I may have to go back to my boring, legal job, but—“

“Don’t feel bad about that at all. You’ve been a huge help,” Dean assured her.

***

“So was this one of Bobby Singer’s cabins?” Mary asked, looking around as they all stepped into the small makeshift home in Whitefish.

“Rufus Turner. He was a buddy of Bobby’s, well – as close to a buddy as he could be. He was a grumpy old man and was kind of awesome,” Sam explained, setting down his bag and entering the kitchen to put away groceries they’d bought.

“He died?” Mary assumed, wandering over to the table to look at some of the papers on it.

“Yeah, a few years back – got possessed by a Khan Worm.”

“A Khan Worm?”

Dean shrugged. “Don’t know if they have another name. That’s what we’ve been calling them. Back in early 2011 we came on one, and later in 2015, but uh, back in 2011 he ended up dead. We lost a lot of people.”

Mary nodded, settling into the chair at the table. “Was this a new kind of creature or something? I’ve never heard of it.”

Dean nodded, sitting across from her. He dug his own journal out of his bag and flipped through it, passing it to her when he reached the right page. “Here.”

While she read, he wandered into the kitchen, helping Sam put away food. “How you feeling?”

“Better. Still kinda tired but—“

“Yeah well you get some more rest while we’re here. I can handle this machine thing with the guys.”

“Dean, no.”

“Yes. I need you at the top of your game for what’s coming. Me and Ketch and Mom and Donna can handle this. You go play little spoon with your boyfriend and get back to yourself, okay?”

Sam couldn’t help but smile a little. “What about you? You and Ketch, you’re—“

“We’re good. I mean – we don’t know what we are exactly, but whatever it is seems to be working.”

“When are we gonna tell Mom?”

Dean hesitated for a moment, his hand wavering above a bag of cereal. He sighed, his shoulders slumping.

“No idea, honestly. I mean – do we want to tell her? Really?”

“She’s our Mom – she should know.”

“Is she, Sam?” Dean asked, looking up at his little brother. “I mean I wanna believe she is but with how she was and now with what they’ve done to her—“

“She’s our Mom. No matter what. We’ll get her back to herself,” Sam whispered. He reached out, squeezing Dean’s shoulder.

***

“I swear if this doesn’t work—“

“It’ll work, Dean,” Sam scolded, carefully pouring the concoction that was supposed to power the machine. They’d tried three times before – each attempt ending more disastrous than the prior one.  

“That’s what you said the last time,” Mary said from the corner, her arms crossed over her chest. It’d been a week since they rescued her from the British Men of Letters and she hadn’t changed a bit. Cold, calculating, and downright scary at times. Though she assured both Sam and Dean that she wouldn’t hurt them they didn’t quite trust her out of their sight yet.

Donna had gone back home at this point, promising to stop in on her way to let Jody know what was going on, leaving the Winchesters and Ketch and Mick in the cabin.

 

Everyone cringed when Sam sealed the tube in the machine, fully expecting it to blow up. Five seconds, thirty—a minute.

Sam’s shoulders slumped down and he grinned, open mouthed at Dean. “We did it.”

Mick stepped closer, picking up the machine and turning it over in his hands.

“You lads did it.”

“You helped,” Sam said, his smile softening a little. He tucked his head down, hair falling over his forehead.

Mick passed the device to Ketch and set his hand on Sam’s wrist. He gave it a squeeze. “We can do this.”

Dean nodded when Sam looked up.

“We can. He’s right. Now—We gotta find Cas.”

“I might have a way to do that,” Mary chirped up from the corner. She barely blinked when all four men turned to her.

She stepped forward and grabbed one of the books they’d been using along with the blueprints.

“I was looking through this last night and I found something,” she said, sliding it over to Dean on a new page. “It might not help, but you boys said there was an archangel baby inside that woman he’s with, right? This spell is supposed to pinpoint where an archangel is if they’re on earth.”

“But Lucifer  _is_  on Earth,” Mick argued.

“So it’ll either just point to him or it won’t work,” Dean worried.

“This spell can be modified to track a regular angel as well.” Ketch said. “But either way it’s hopeless, we need the grace of the angel we’re tracking.”

“Wait, wait.” Dean stood up straighter and tapped the book. “Do angel feathers have grace in them?”

“A small amount, yes,” Ketch said. Dean grinned and slapped the book.

“I’ll be right back.” He rushed out of the room before anyone could speak.

“You know he is a very excitable man. He’s going to hurt himself one of these days,” Ketch mumbled.

Sam began to laugh a little, shaking his head. “He’s managed almost forty years – I think he’s good.”

“And how many times in those forty years has he hurt himself?”

“Himself? Not too many. Been hurt or – you know – killed – more often.”

Ketch chuckled, glancing at the door Dean left ajar. “I’m going to make some tea while we wait for your brother to run laps or whatever he’s doing – would anyone like some?”

Mick raised his hand without looking up, reading through the spell silently. Sam shook his head and Mary nodded as well. When Ketch walked into the kitchen, she spoke.

“Is there something I should know about Dean, Sam?”

Sam and Mick both looked up at her. “Like what?”

Mary scowled a little and looked pointedly toward the kitchen doorway before looking back to Sam.

The corners of his mouth turned down into a half scowl and he shrugged. “My… Brother is friends with a British man that you slept with? I don’t know what you’re angling at here, Mom.”

She sighed, looking at him for a moment before shrugging. “Maybe I’m seeing things.”

“How are you feeling anyway, Mary?” Mick asked suddenly.

“I’m okay. A little tired of being cooped up but I know we can’t do anything until we find the angel.”

“I mean emotionally. Still nothing?”

Mary got quiet for a moment, picking at a piece of wood on the table.

“Mom?”

“I’ve been having some strange dreams,” she finally said.

“About what?”

“You boys. But, as children. Some—Pretty awful stuff. Demons coming after you and hurting you. John turning evil… Things that always scared me when I was alive the first time.”

“As painful as it may be – this is a good thing, Mary,” Mick said.

“How?”

Mick scowled a little, glancing over the table. He grabbed one of the large knives from it and grabbed Sam’s hair, yanking him down and setting the blade to his throat.

Sam’s eyes widened and he raised his hands. Mary tensed visibly, her hands clamping at her sides.

“How does this feel?” Mick asked, pressing the blade a little harder to Sam’s throat.

“Like if you hurt him I’ll tear your face off.”

Mick grinned and let Sam go, tossing the blade aside. Sam stood up, rubbing his neck. “Warn a guy, man.”

“I needed you surprised. Sorry, Sam.”

Sam rolled his eyes, elbowing Mick in the arm. “You’re a dick. But he’s right, Mom. A week ago your first concern would have been grabbing a weapon to protect yourself – not me.”

“So what, I’m fixing myself?”

“Slowly, it seems. We’ll have the old Mary back in no time.”

Mary smiled distantly, and Sam scowled.

“Doesn’t look like you’re too happy about that, Mom… What’s going on?”

She shook her head. “Nothing. Nothing. It’s just strange is all. So, if we’re able to get the grace we need – do we have everything else for the spell?”

Sam nodded after watching her for a moment longer. “Yeah, what we don’t have is easy stuff to find – there’s a New Age shop in Kalispell that should have what we need; Bobby used to go there all the time when we’d come up here.”

“One of these days I’d like you to tell me more about Bobby Singer,” Mary said, sitting down at the table and pulling and book back over to her.

“Oh?” Sam took a seat as well.

“Yeah. I mean, your father spoke about him a little in his journal but—He seems like he was so much to you boys after John died. I’d like to know more about him.”

Sam smiled a little. “Honestly, he was awesome, Mom. One week he had us while Dad was off hunting something, a—Some sort of vengeful spirit of a serial killer or whatever. And Dad made him swear on everything holy that he’d take us out for shooting practice. Dean was good, I mean—Dean’s been a crack shot since he was eight but I used to be  _awful_  at shooting. Couldn’t hit a target to save my life, probably literally.

So anyway, Dad’s off and Bobby gets us up at the ass crack of dawn. We figure we’re going to go run laps or something and then he’s gonna take us out, just like Dad said. But no, instead he shoves this big ass duffel bag in Dean’s arms and a couple of life vests into mine. Drags us out to this  _gorgeous_  lake outside Sioux Falls. We spent the whole day out on a boat, fishing and swimming and just having a hell of a time.”

His smile grew, then faded slowly. “Dad got so mad but—Bobby, he always made sure we had time to be kids  _and_  hunters. It wasn’t Dad’s fault, he—After you died, he did his best. But sometimes he forgot that we weren’t him. We weren’t military trained, we were just a couple of kids. Bobby helped him remember.”

Mary shook her head. “This is all my fault. Every single thing.”

“No, Mom—“ Dean’s voice startled all three into looking back. He was standing in the doorway, a jar of Cas’ feathers in his hand.

Mick jumped up, taking the feathers. “I’ll go ask Mr. Ketch if this is enough,” he offered, figuring the Winchesters needed some time talk.

Dean walked around and sat next to Sam, across from Mary.

“Why do you say it’s your fault?”

“I made the deal, Dean. If I hadn’t—“

“Then Dad would be dead, Mom. And Sam and I wouldn’t be here.”

“But you also wouldn’t be hunters.”

Dean shrugged. “I’d rather be a hunter than not born. Mom—I was mad at you for a  _long_  time after I found out you made that deal. I—I couldn’t believe you. That you hunted and still did it.  _Knowing_  what demons do. I held onto that anger for so long. Then I saw my little brother fighting for his life against Lucifer. I saw him deal with the memories of hundreds of years of torture. I saw him break – but I saw him come back stronger than ever. And just a few weeks ago I saw him lead a fucking Army to save you and all the other hunters. I can’t be mad at you, for making that deal, Mom. Because if you hadn’t made it – I wouldn’t have gotten to have a brother that did all that. That saved the world. That saved me. And you.” He shook his head, blinking away tears.

Sam looked over at him, his eyes narrowed. “Dean—You’re talking like you didn’t do anything.”

Dean laughed a little. “I held you back more often than not, Sam. You can admit it.”

“You friggin’ jerk.” Sam grabbed Dean’s shoulder, making him look over. “You  _raised me_ , Dean. Four years old and you were changing a baby’s diaper. You taught me how to walk, how to feed myself, how to talk—Everything I do  _you_  taught me. Including how to lead those hunters. I might have jumped into that pit with Lucifer but  _you_  gave me the strength to fight him. Don’t you dare doubt yourself.” He gritted his teeth and looked over at Mary, unfazed by the tears in her eyes – or the ones blurring his own vision.

“I won’t ever be okay with the things you’ve done. But my brother, and my father – they taught me forgiveness. And you’re still my Mom. You always will be.”

Mary’s shoulders slumped a little. She first at Sam, then at Dean, really  _looking_. Without a word she rose and circled the small table, grabbing both of the brothers. They went willingly, allowing Mary to hug them tightly.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered over and over, stroking her fingers through their hair.

***

“You cannot  _fucking_  be serious!” Dean snapped, his open palm hitting the cabin wall.

“Dean, what’s the big deal?” Sam asked.

“The big—“ Dean blinked at him, never looking more like he wanted to slap his brother at that moment. He took a breath. “The big deal, Sam? Is that that winged  _asshole_  has been under our noses for a week and a half and we were sitting here with no clue. None. He probably knows exactly where we are.”

“You don’t know that. He’s a bit preoccupied. Plus he’s not  _exactly_  under our noses – he is technically ten hours away.”

“Not helping, Sam,” Dean mumbled.

Ketch rose silently and walked into the kitchen, grabbing a beer. He opened it and brought it back to Dean, pushing it into his hand. “Sit. Drink. Breathe.”

“Oh what is this,  _Eat, Pray, Love_? I’m not a child, Ketch.”

“You’re throwing a tantrum like one, now sit down, Mr. Winchester. Finding your angel is a  _good_  thing, and finding him close is even better – don’t you think?”

Dean huffed, narrowing his eyes at Ketch. “You’re lucky you’re a good lay.”

Ketch smirked. “And I assure you that I will remain good as long as you behave.”

Sam rolled his eyes, watching Dean slump onto the couch. Ketch took a seat next to him, turning toward Sam at the table. “So Washington. When should we head there?”

“Well we gotta wait for Mom and Mick to get back. Then probably rest up and head out tomorrow night. That baby is due in a just a few days.”

“And we’d rather it  _not_  be born powered up, correct?”

“Right, but we need to make sure Cas is on our side first. And if he’s not—“

“The device won’t kill him, I assure you. It will take away his powers for a while – long enough to subdue him and fix the child.”

“It better not hurt him, Ketch. Cas is our best friend,” Dean warned.

“I know. And all of the tests showed that it does nothing to permanently harm the angel.”

“Why did they stop it?” Sam asked.

“Because it kills the vessel the angel is inhabiting. But from our research – Jimmy – the vessel Castiel has – he’s been dead for a long time, hasn’t he?”

“Yeah, yeah. Jimmy’s up in heaven. Chuck remade Cas in that body, so.”

“So then there’s nothing to worry about. He will be weak, and it will hurt a little, but there won’t be anything lasting done to the angel.”

Dean and Sam both nodded. Sam looked down at the map.

“We’ve still got Lucifer to figure out. He’s not gonna give up. He’s gonna be  _pissed_  if we can turn his baby into a human.”

“We just need time. Give Rowena time to come up with something.”

“But with the spell Crowley used – Locking him in that vessel – she can’t just toss him back into his cage and Chuck is M-I-A—“

Dean scowled. “Ketch, would this Angelus thing work on an archangel?”

Ketch shrugged. “I can’t say. There were no tests done like that – archangels couldn’t be summoned as easily as seraphs could.”

“But they’re all just grace.”

“But an archangel’s grace is highly concentrated. It’s hundreds of times more powerful than a seraph like Castiel. And either way, we only have one. There’s only enough of the potion for one use. If we have to use it on your angel, we’d need to make another and I’m not sure we’d have the time to do that.”

“If we did – could we just make it stronger? I mean all we really need to do is get him powered down for a few seconds. Just long enough to stab him.”

“Even powered down – Lucifer is a warrior angel. He is more highly trained in human hand to hand combat than any normal angel you’ve met,” Ketch argued.

“It’s worth a shot if we can’t come up with anything else.”

“I agree, but—“

A knock sounded at the cabin door, silencing them. Dean scowled, rising with Sam. They both grabbed their guns thumbing the safety off and approaching the door slowly.

Sam reached out and pulled it open, raising his weapon only to sigh and lower it. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Claire grinned widely, pushing past them and dropping her duffel onto the floor by the table. “You promised not to keep me out of the fight and I know you guys as going after Cas.”

“How—“

“Donna let it slip.”

Dean sighed, raising his eyebrows. Claire smiled as innocently as she could. “Well, Donna might have told Jody while I was eavesdropping.”

“Does Jody know you’re here.”

“Yes!” Claire assured him. “You can even call her, actually I should call her. I promised her I’d call as soon as I got here and knew what the plan was. You promised I could help with Cas.”

Dean looked up at Sam. He shrugged. “We did tell her.”

Dean sighed softly. “Fine, call Jody. Tell her we’re headed to North Cove, Washington tomorrow morning. I’ll text her the details.”

“Really?” Claire asked, perking up.

“Yes. But listen, our Mom is here with us, okay? So you gotta be kinda respectful. And she doesn’t exactly know about me and Sam.”

“You and Sam?” Claire asked.

“About us,” Ketch filled in, “Mick and myself being their partners.”

Claire’s eyes narrowed. She turned to Sam. “You two are seriously hiding being gay from your Mom? Aren’t you guys like forty? I don’t think she’d care.”

“You don’t know that. She kind of screwed Ketch,” Sam said, a smirk spreading on his face as Claire’s eyes widened. She whipped back around to Dean, who was glaring at Sam.

“I hate you,” he whispered before looking to Claire. “Just—Not a word, okay? It’s not really the top priority right now with Cas and the Devil.”

“Do I get to meet Lucifer?” Claire asked.

“We hope to God not,” Sam said. He squeezed her shoulder. “Go call Jody, I’ll make us some lunch while we wait for our Mom and Mick to get back.”

Claire nodded, heading outside.

***

“Damnit, Ketch – What are you doing?” Dean hissed, fighting the urge to lean back. Ketch’s lips were hot against his neck, hands roaming down to palm at his crotch through his jeans.

“Is it not allowed?” Ketch murmured against his ear.

“Not when my Mom could come out at any minute.”

“Oh, she’s getting to know Claire. Come to bedroom with me.”

Dean whined softly, his willpower failing quickly. He set his hand over Ketch’s, letting his hips pump forward.

“The cabin isn’t soundproof – everyone’ll hear us.”

“Then out to the woods,” Ketch mumbled and Dean laughed a little, turning. He let his hands rest on Ketch’s biceps, their noses nearly touching.

“You’d screw me in the woods? You? Mr. Prim-and-Proper?”

Ketch rolled his eyes. “It’s been days and I rather miss your intimate company. And considering we are going to possibly fight tomorrow.”

Dean shook his head, leaning back on the counter. He let Ketch’s hands stay on his hips, their crotches together.

“Cas won’t hurt us. I trust him.”

“I don’t. I don’t trust any creature, Dean. I am sorry.”

“A werewolf helped save you. As did three witches and a demon. A little trust – just a bit, that’s all I want.”

Ketch sighed softly and nodded.

“I trust  _you_  and that’s what’s important, I feel.”

Dean smiled and nodded. “Yeah, that’s a start.” He gasped when Ketch slid his hands further down, placing them on either thigh and lifting.

Ketch placed Dean on the counter, sliding between his legs and leaning up. Their mouths met in a rough, messy kiss. Dean let his fingers drag through Ketch’s hair, ruffling it up despite the annoyed talking to he’d receive later. He slipped his tongue into Ketch’s mouth, the familiar, almost comforting taste sending heat to his cock.

Ketch’s fingers were digging into his sides; he knew he’d have bruises but couldn’t find it in himself to care, too caught up in tasting every inch of Ketch’s mouth he could reach. A few days was too long – especially after what they’d gone through.

Dean groaned when Ketch squeezed his cock through his jeans once more, bucking his hips upward. A sharp gasp from the doorway of the kitchen dragged them apart. Dean looked up, half expecting Claire.

“Mom!” Dean shoved Ketch away from his hips and hopped off the counter, tugging at his shirt to hide his flagging but still visible erection.

“Dean, I—“

“Mom, I didn’t want you to find out this way,” he tried to explain. A blush was heating his cheeks up and he felt a hot, nerves choking any words he had.

“You’re—“ she took a breath, “I didn’t realize you were into men.”

“Both,” Dean said softly, hanging his head. “I mean, I—I’ve dated both. Um, but Ketch and I—“

“You are aware that he and I—“

“Yes, I told him, Mary. That we had sex,  _once_. It was before Dean and I became serious.”

Dean shifted a little, feeling Mary’s gaze on him.

“Does your brother know?”

Dean looked up, his lips curling into a confused smile. “What? Yeah- of course Sam knows. We grew up damn near in each other’s pockets. We know everything about each other.”

“And he’s alright with it?”

Dean chuckled, nodding. “You could say that.”

Mary looked down for a moment, a frown barely visible on her mouth.

“Did your father know?”

Dean sighed a little and shrugged. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “See, I mean—He and I never really talked about it, but I didn’t make a real show of hiding it. I think Dad figured as long as Sammy and I were being smart about who we slept with, it didn’t matter if they were men or women.”

Mary nodded. “I did suspect, I just—Didn’t expect to find out like this.”

“I know, I’m sorry, Mom. I wanted to tell you after this whole thing with Cas was done. When we could sit and you know, talk about it or something. I didn’t want you to find out—“

“With his tongue down your throat?” She joked, finally looking back up to meet Dean’s gaze. He laughed a little, seeing no judgement in her eyes.

“Uh, yeah – not the way I planned it.”

“Well, I suppose it’s not in my rights warn Ketch that if he hurts you, I’ll castrate him, but—“

“It is perfectly within your rights, Mary,” Ketch assured her. “And I won’t.”

“Good. And no more screwing your boyfriend’s mothers – sound like a plan?”

“Well, he’s not really my boyf—“ Ketch grimaced when Dean stomped on his foot. He smiled at Mary. “Yes, it sounds perfectly reasonable, Mary,” he said, smiling as sweetly as he could manage. Mary narrowed her eyes a second before nodding. She walked past Dean to grab a beer from the fridge and walked back out without another word.

When she was gone, Dean slumped against the counter, burying his face in his hands.

“I apologize, Dean. I didn’t expect her to come out.”

“It’s fine,” Dean mumbled, “she surprised us both. But it’s out now, it doesn’t matter.”

“Are you angry?”

Dean looked up and shook his head. “Nah. No reason to be. I’m gonna finish making my food and then we can go uh, take a walk in the woods,” Dean offered. Ketch tilted his head a little before smiling.

“That sounds splendid, Mr. Winchester.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to the corner of Dean’s mouth before walking back into the living room.

***

“So Dean and Ketch,” Mary said. Sam glanced up from his book.

“What about them?”

She and Sam were the only two awake, sitting in the living area of the cabin. Mary was watching television while Sam read, nursing a beer he hoped would help him sleep.

“I saw them making out today.”

Sam chuckled. “Right. They were gonna tell you, Mom.”

“I know, that’s what Dean said. He said you’ve known for a long time.”

“Yeah, yeah. Pretty much since we were kids. I was the first person Dean told. Are  _you_  okay with it?”

“Yes. I mean – It’s different. Back when I was alive the first time it—Being gay was so taboo and something that hippies did. It wasn’t really accepted. But it seems to be today, so. I suppose I should get with the program.”

Sam laughed. He closed his book and went to sit by her.

“Ketch is good for Dean, Mom.”

“They are very similar.”

Sam nodded, looking at his hands.

“You look like you have something on your mind.”

“I do—“ Sam looked back up. He took a deep breath, exhaling sharply. “I’m dating someone too.”

“Oh?”

“Mick.”

Mary scowled, leaning back a little to look at Sam better.

“Mick? As in Davies?”

“That’d be the one. I started dating him a while ago. Um… Shortly before they tried to kill him,” Sam said, trying to laugh. It came out choked. He cleared his throat and smiled a little. “Say something?”

“What would you have me say?”

Sam shrugged. “How you feel about it. I know it’s kind of a shock, but—“

“Are you both strictly into—Men?”

“No. I mean – Not at all. We’ve both dated women, I mean I had Jess for the longest time. And Dean had Lisa and some others. We just both ended up with these guys. It’s why we fought so hard to save them back when Toni grabbed them.”

“And why you didn’t let Ketch kill Mick that night.”

Sam nodded. 

Mary sighed. “Well it’s um… Definitely a shock. I mean, I sort of suspected with Dean, but less with you.”

Sam smiled weakly. “Are you okay with it?”

Mary nodded. “I feel like - with the bigger picture - it’s probably the least of our concerns.”

Sam laughed a little. “I agree. Get some rest, okay? We’re headed out in the morning.”

“Are you going to sleep as well?”

“Yeah. I think Mick snagged us a bed. Are you sure you don’t want us out on the couch?”

“No, no, you’re fine. Goodnight, Sam.”

“Night Mom.” Sam rose and went toward the bedroom before pausing and turning back. “Mom?”

Mary looked up.

“I’m glad you’re getting back to yourself.”

Mary smiled softly. “Me too, Sam.”

***

“So Cas is holed up in a cabin with the pregnant mother of the Devil’s baby?” Claire clarified. They were driving up the winding path to the cabin that had been rented to one Jimmy Novak.

“Yep,” Dean said.

“And you guys think we can save them both.”

Dean glanced in the rearview, making sure Ketch was still behind them in the other car.

“We’re gonna try,” Sam said from the passenger seat, checking again to make sure the cuffs were still in his coat.

Dean parked as soon as the small cabin came into view. “Ready for this?”

Sam and Claire nodded, climbing out with Dean. Ketch, Mary, and Mick climbed out of the truck, following the others up to the cabin door. Dean knocked once, sharply, and Sam pulled out the Enochian cuffs, palming them in his hand so Cas couldn’t see them.

The door opened and Cas’ eyes bulged at seeing the entire group. Dean offered a smile he hoped was comforting.

“Long time, no see buddy.”

“Dean—I asked you to let this go. To trust me.”

“Yeah, you did. And we want to, man – but you knocked us unconscious and left us in the middle of nowhere. By an  _angel_  gate no less. That doesn’t really give me the feeling of trust.”

“I am sorry I had to do that, Dean – but you cannot be here now. Kelly is due any day.”

“That’s why we  _need_  to be here, Cas. We want to help,” Sam said.

Cas narrowed his eyes. “Then why is everyone here. Why are you here, Claire?”

“Because I’m scared for you,” Claire admitted. She stepped forward, pushing Dean out of the way and grabbing Cas’ wrist.

“You and me have been through a lot together. You’ve saved me. And Sam and Dean told me everything that’s happened… I wanna help. I want to make sure you’re okay and you’re  _you_.”

Cas shook his head. “Of course I’m me, Claire. Who else would I be?”

“I don’t know. But the Cas I know wouldn’t have knocked the Winchesters out and left them in the middle of nowhere. The Cas I know wouldn’t have hidden from them for this long. Or let them go into the Men of Letters base unprotected.”

“They—“ Cas looked up at Sam, who nodded.

“All the ones in the US are dead except Ketch and Mick now.”

“And you did it by yourselves?”

“No. We made an army. And that same army is willing to help with Lucifer and Kelly and the baby.”

“Jack,” Cas said softly, “his name is Jack.”

Dea nodded. “Jack. Let us help.”

“You can’t take away his powers.”

“Cas, please. If we don’t – Kelly will  _die_ ,” Sam pleaded.

“It’s a risk she’s willing to take.”

“Cas it isn’t a risk, it’s a promise. It’s  _suicide_ ,” Dean shouted. Cas tensed, stepping back and grabbing the door to shut it. Claire slammed her hand on it.

“Stop. Please, if you care about me or Dean or Sam at all. Stop. Let us talk to her. Let us help you.”

“I don’t need help, Claire.”

“Yeah, Cas. Yeah you do,” Dean whispered. “You’re not yourself man.”

“I’m better than I’ve been in years, Dean. I’m more put together.”

“No. You’re more like you were when we first met you. The dick that didn’t care about anyone or anything except his mission.”

Cas’ expression softened a little at Dean’s words. He lowered his gaze, the muscle in his cheek twitching. Claire stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck in a cautious hug.

“Let us help, okay?”

Cas sighed, deflating. He returned the hug, looking up at the brothers.

“Do  _not_  stress her out. Do not threaten her.”

“We won’t. We just want to talk. Mother to mother,” Mary said, stepping up between the others. “We both have very special children. I hope she can see things a different way if we talk about that,” Mary said, touching Sam and Dean’s arms.

Cas nodded, pulling back from Claire and stepping aside, allowing everyone into the small cabin.

Kelly came out of the back room, gasping when she saw everyone.

Mary offered a small smile. “Kelly. Hi. I’m Mary – Sam and Dean’s mom. We don’t want to frighten you.”

“I’m not giving up my baby’s powers. You can’t—“

“Don’t, don’t stress yourself,” Mary said softly, reaching out and touching Kelly’s arm. “We’re not going to force you into anything. We came to help and to show you and Castiel some support. I’ve given birth to two sons. I know it can be scary. Do you have a comfortable bed or place we can talk? Let my sons talk to Castiel? Make sure the house is safe?”

“S—Safe?”

Sam cleared his throat. “Lucifer is free again.”

Kelly’s eyes widened and Cas straightened up. “But Crowley—“

“Royally screwed the pooch, I’m afraid,” Crowley’s voice startled them all. He came in from the kitchen and smiled sheepishly. “I am sorry, Castiel. I do intend to help fix things, though And my mother is on her way to help as well.”

Dean cleared his throat. “So, Mom, why don’t you and Kelly go find some place to relax, take a load off. I’ve never been pregnant, but that belly looks  _very_  heavy,” he tried to joke, motioning to Kelly’s rounded stomach. She laughed a little and rubbed it, nodding.

“Okay, come upstairs, Mary.”

“And for a little bit, don’t come down, okay?” Sam asked. Kelly’s eyes widened a little and he shook his head quickly, raising his hands. “Nothing bad. It’s just that we’re going to be setting up some sigils and warding around the perimeter and with your baby having Lucifer’s grace – I don’t know if it’d hurt him if you stepped into one by accident.”

Kelly relaxed visibly and nodded, allowing Mary to guide her upstairs.

When she was gone, Dean sighed. “We all need to take a step outside and chat for a minute.

“Dean—“ Cas warned.

“Just. Talk.”

Cas’ eyes narrowed for a second, as if he were trying to decide if Dean was lying. When he was satisfied that he wasn’t, he nodded, leading the group outside.

Ketch and Mick split off, circling the perimeter of the cabin to begin laying out warding spells while Crowley, Cas, Claire, and the brothers stood in the back yard, watching waves lap at the shore for a bit. It was Sam that spoke first.

“We know you want to save Jack. But you have to want Kelly to live too, Cas.”

“I do. I wish there was another way.”

“With Lucifer free – you do realize that Jack having his full powers is so much more dangerous,” Dean said.

“I trust that Jack will do the right thing.”

“Jack isn’t even born yet, Cas. I didn’t do that right thing until I was nearly twenty,” Claire argued. “He’s a baby. He’s gonna do whatever he’s raised and told is right.”

“And I will raise him and teach him.”

“And if Lucifer kills you?” Dean asked. Cas scowled a little, looking back out over the water.

“Didn’t think about that, did you?”

“Dean, you’re trying to pick a fight where there is none. This is not my decision to make.”

“No. It’s Kelly’s. But  _you_  should be the one explaining the dangers of the situation to her, not supporting her in this ridiculous and deadly decision,” Sam said.

“And you’re judging the decision to be deadly before even thinking it through.”

“We’ve thought it through, Cas!” Dean snapped. “This baby is brainwashing you. You’re putting the damn  _world_  in danger letting his baby be born full power with his father roaming around.”

“It’s a risk that Kelly and I are willing to take. Once, many years ago, I had faith in a boy with demon blood and a righteous man even though everyone told me they would destroy the world. They didn’t let me down. They  _saved_  the world.”

Dean’s shoulders sagged a little. He glanced over at Sam who shook his head.

“Fine. We figured this might happen, but we—Didn’t want to have to do this, Cas.”

“Do what?”

Sam reached into his bad and withdrew the machine. Cas’ eyes narrowed.

“What is that?”

Instead of answering, Sam turned the small opening and began reciting an incantation. Cas’ body jerked a few times, glowing the same bright gold it did in the playground. He tried to step backwards but Claire rushed over, pushing him forward again.

“I’m sorry, Cas – this is for your own good,” she whispered.

A blue-gold light drifted from Cas’ body into the machine in Sam’s hands as he spoke. Cas collapsed to the ground just as Kelly’s scream echoed through the woods.

 


	9. Baby Blue Eyes

Sam tossed Claire the warded handcuffs as he, Dean, and Crowley rushed back into the house and up the stairs.

“Get Rowena,” Dean shouted back to Crowley, who nodded and disappeared just as the brothers burst into the bedroom. They stopped in the doorway.

“Mom!”

“This baby is coming, boys it’s too late,” Mary called.

“No, it’s not. Come on, Mom.”

Mary stepped forward, leaving a sweating, panting Kelly on the bed. A pool of blood was spreading from between her legs, and she was more pale than a living person should ever be. Mary set her hands on Sam and Dean’s chests.

“Go. We can’t save her, but we can help the baby. But you boys need to stay safe.”

“No, Mom—We can save them both. I have the spell,” Sam tried.

“No,” Kelly panted from the bed. She looked up at them, holding her stomach. “I made my choice. I need to do this. Save my boy, okay? His name—His name is Jack.”

Dean glanced at Sam before nodding at Kelly. “We’ll keep him safe.”

“Mary—Go with them,” Kelly panted, grimacing as another contraction started.

“No, Kelly I can stay,” Mary assured her, but Kelly shook her head.

“Go! It won’t be safe for you soon—Just go,  _please_.”

Mary looked at her for a moment but Kelly nodded, smiling softly. “I promise, it’ll be okay.”

Dean pulled Mary out of the room and shut the door, grimacing when Kelly screamed behind it.

“God—I know Sam and me were just normal babies but—I’m sorry,” he mumbled. Mary chuckled.

“I had some pretty decent drugs when I gave birth to you boys. How’s Castiel?”

“We powered down his mojo – but it won’t last too long. I hope we can get the spell done before he powers back up and takes Jack,” Sam said.

“Are Ketch and Mick with him?”

“Yeah, and Claire, out back. I had Crowley go get Rowena – There might be something she can do to save Kelly after the kid is born.”

“I don’t think so. The blood you saw – that was more than there should be, even for a natural birth like Kelly’s. She won’t make it through the labor.”

“Is she gonna be able to have him okay?” Sam worried. Mary shrugged.

“I hope so. That’s why I wanted to stay in the room – to help with the birth in case she couldn’t—“

The three grimaced when another scream echoed through the small cabin. Dean shook his head, walking down the hall and disappearing into the other bedroom. Sam followed, seeing him at the window.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, just that screaming. I hate not being able to help her. After everything she’s been through, you know?”

“I know. But she made the choice. How’s it looking down there?”

“Cas is waking up – Mick is talking to him.”  
Sam stepped up next to Dean, watching their friends in the yard below. Dean chuckled a little.

“You know, Sam—I might have given Mick a hard time – but he’s a good guy.”

Sam grinned. “Are you saying you approve of my boyfriend choice?”

“Eh, shut up. I’ll still knock his teeth down his throat if he hurts you.”

Sam smiled over at Dean, worship shining in his eyes. “You know I think the same – of Ketch. I  might be the little brother but I want to see you happy.”

“Ketch is a good guy – if a little twisted.”

“Just like you,” Sam teased. They grimaced when Kelly screamed again.

“Boys!” Mary shouted from the hallway. The urgency in her voice had them both rushing out toward her. From under the closed bedroom door, a bright golden light was shining.

“Should we go in there?” Dean worried. Mary shook her head.

“I have a feeling we probably wouldn’t make it if we did,” she said softly, her expression pained at Kelly’s steadily weakening screams.

“Is it coming?” Crowley’s voice drew their attention. He was coming up the stairs, Rowena close behind him.

“Jack,” Dean corrected. “Kelly wants him named Jack. And yeah, he’s coming. We hoped you might be able to save her, Rowena, but our Mom thinks there’s no chance.”

“I can still try. No woman deserves to die alone like that, not for the birth of a child.”

Crowley looked back at Rowena, frowning at her words. He turned back to the Winchesters. “And Cas?”

“Waking up now – last we saw, Mick was talking to him, he’s cuffed so he can’t do anything, but he’s gonna be pissed.”

“And the mother – she agreed with the plan?”

“Yes,” Mary said, “before the boys came in she agreed to the new plan. It’s a smart move, I think – and so did she.”

Crowley nodded. “Can you do it to a newborn?”

Sam looked over the sheet of paper he’d written the spell on. “Yeah, seems forward enough – nothing dangerous for a newborn.”

“May I see it?” Rowena asked. Sam passed over the sheet and she looked it over. She shook her head. “This won’t work.”

“What do you mean?” Dean asked.

“This will only remove the child’s powers until he turns eighteen. And even then – it will only remove the powers equal to a regular Nephilim – this child is an  _archangel’s_  baby.”

“We know. We did that on purpose,” Sam explained. “We want to give Jack back his powers, but we want to make sure he knows how to use them first. He can learn with normal angel powers, and when he’s old enough he’ll get the full use of his powers back. There is a way to prevent it if he goes dark, and we can pull the rest of his powers with the extraction ritual we have.”

“And who will teach him to be good?” Crowley asked. “Now that the mother may not make it—“

“We’ll figure that out,” Dean said, cutting him off. “One problem at a time.”

The group was silent for a moment, all noticing that Kelly was no longer screaming. A sharp baby’s cry ripped through the air, startling everyone.

Mary pushed the door open, not bothering with modesty. The room was silent, thick with the stench of blood and other bodily fluids when they entered. Rowena pushed past them and rushed up to Kelly’s side. Mary followed, scooping up the bloody baby on the mattress, grimacing a little at the slick slide of the placenta.

“Dean, I need your knife.”

Dean stepped up, looking a little pale. He kept his eyes on the infant, refusing to look at the body of Kelly on the bed as he passed the knife over to Mary. She cut the umbilical cord and grabbed a towel, wrapping up the newborn and wiping him off gently. She began to speak in hushed tones, rocking him gently.

“She didn’t make it,” Rowena said softly, standing straight. Crowley stepped up to her, setting his hand on her back.

“I know you tried, Mother.”

She smiled a little and squeezed his shoulder. “Thank you, Fergus. Perhaps you can take me home now—I don’t care for the stench of newborns.”

“Actually—I hate to ask,” Sam said softly, “but could you stay? I wanted Mick with me to do this spell but I don’t wanna leave just Claire and Ketch out there with Cas, just in case—“

“Of course, Samuel,” Rowena said softly. “Call me in when you’re ready to do it.”

Dean stepped up to Mary as Rowena and Crowley stepped out of the room. “Is he okay?”

“He’s perfect, Dean. Reminds me a bit of you when you were a newborn. Would you like to hold him?”

“Oh, I—I’m not—“ Dean sighed a little when Mary held the swaddled infant out toward him. He took him carefully, pushing the towel out of the way to see his face. “Hey bud. Welcome to the world. It’s uh—Well, I wish it was under better circumstances, you know?”

Jack wrinkled his nose, wiggling a little in Dean’s arms.

“Why don’t we take him out of here. I know he’s a baby and all, but—“ Sam glanced at Kelly’s body. Dean nodded.

“We’ll do the spell in his nursery. Mom, would you cover her? We’ll take her out and give her a proper funeral after this is taken care of.” Mary nodded and went to the bed, covering Kelly before following Sam and Dean, still holding Jack protectively to his chest, into the nursery.

Dean and Sam worked to wipe Jack down while Mary pulled out a diaper. She smiled softly. “You two are good at that – I wouldn’t have guessed.”

Dean chuckled. “Uh, dealt with a few babies on the job. I don’t like them, but—“

“Liar,” Sam teased, giving Dean a fond smile. He took the diaper and put it onto Jack before sticking his head out the door. “We’re ready,” he said to Rowena and Crowley.

They came in as Dean sat in the rocking chair, holding Jack. He looked up at Sam. “We’re sure this isn’t going to hurt him?”

“We’re sure, Dean, no more than a regular vaccine would,” Sam said, pulling over the regular chair and withdrawing the syringe from his pocket. He attached the needle and sighed softly.

“Help Dean hold his arm, Mom.”

Mary crouched by Dean, straightening Jack’s arm. He pulled Jack a little closer to him and began to hum softly, hoping to soothe him. Sam moved as quick as he could, drawing a little bit of blood from the baby. Jack began to fuss and Sam grimaced, re-capping the needle.

“Sorry, big man – it’s to keep you safe,” He whispered, handing Dean a tissue and rising.

He went over to the changing table, searching for a bowl of some sort. Rowena rolled her eyes.

“First rule of witchcraft, Samuel – always be prepared,” she said, reaching into her bag and producing a small bowl with a flourish. Sam sighed.

“Thank you,” he said. He squirted the blood into the bowl and withdrew the satchel of herbs he and Mick had mixed earlier, sprinkling it into the bowl carefully. The spell was next and he spoke slow and careful, glancing at Rowena to make sure he was doing it correctly every few seconds. The contents of the bowl lit up a pale golden color, the same as the light under the door. At the same time, Jack’s chest began to glow. The bowl shook softly and the baby cried in Dean’s arms. There was a soft popping noise and the light faded from both child and blood. Instead of herbs and liquid, the bowl now contained a small red stone. Sam scooped it up and placed it into the satchel, pocketing it.

“Failsafe,” He said.

“What will that do?” Crowley asked.

“If he goes dark, or chooses not to get his powers, all we have to do is burn this – and his powers will be gone forever. But we want to wait until he’s old enough to make that decision – or until we’re forced to make it for him.”

“Sam! Dean! Get down here!” Claire shouted suddenly from outside. Sam rushed to the window, his heart climbing to his throat.

“We’ve got company.”

“Is it who I think it is?” Crowley asked, his voice almost bored.

“Lucifer.”

“We can’t take Jack out there—“ Dean worried. Sam set the satchel on the changing table.

“Mom, you and Dean, stay up here with Jack.”

“No way, Mom can stay—I’m not leaving you alone to face Lucifer again,” Dean snapped. He rose and passed Jack to his mother.

“Be safe,” she said.

Dean nodded and the four of them rushed downstairs and out the door.  

 

They stepped outside just as Mick stepped out of the protective circle they’d made with sigils around the property. “Mick!” Sam cried. Lucifer flipped his wrist, sending Mick flying into one of the nearby trees. He shook his head, stepping forward and slamming his fists against the invisible barrier.

“I want to see my son, Sam.”

“Never,” Sam said. He glanced over at the unconscious Mick as they walked up to where Cas, Claire, and Ketch were standing. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed.

“Didn’t I kill you?” He asked Rowena.

Crowley scowled, looking over at her but Rowena just smiled. “You tried, dear. And you failed once again. I guess you’re just getting a bit slow in your old age. Sorry,” she taunted. Lucifer slammed the barrier again.

“You might feel safe in there, you ginger bitch, but you can’t use any of your pathetic magic either. Not without killing all your precious humans.”

“Aye, but do I need to use magic? The Winchesters have locked you up without it, haven’t they? I trust them.”

“Blind faith is what made you witches a dying breed,” he hissed. He looked to Sam and shook his head. “You will give me my son. I know he’s in there.”

“He’s not your son, Lucifer. He’s powerless,” Sam said. The smirk faded from Lucifer’s face.

“What do you mean?”

“You can sense him, right? Tell me what you feel. We took his powers. You’re too late. He’s no more powerful than a low-level demon now.”

“No!” Lucifer screamed, his eyes shining bright red. Sam cringed a little, his heart leaping into his throat. It had been a long time since he saw those eyes – the true evil of the Morningstar. “What did you do to him?”

“We saved him from you,” Dean spat.

“No, no, no. You just sealed your fate, Dean. You and all the other idiots standing here. I will tear the skin from your faces inch by inch until you fix my boy.”

“Then kill us,” Crowley said, smirking. He crossed his arms. “You will never get that child back to full power. And when we’re dead – he’ll be nothing more than one of the pitiful humans you hate so much.”

“You can’t escape this. The second one of you steps foot outside your precious little protective circle I will slaughter you. You aren’t safe in there,” Lucifer taunted. He looked over at Mick, still unconscious at the foot of the tree.

“And I have something I know you want.”

“Don’t, Lucifer—“ Dean warned.

“Then give me my son and I’ll give you your friend.” He strode over and picked up Mick by his shirt as if he weighed nothing.

Sam stepped forward, stopped by Dean’s hand on his chest.

“Leave him alone.”

“Then give me my boy,” Lucifer said, shaking Mick.

“We won’t do that,” Dean snapped, pulling an angel blade from his inner jacket pocket. Sam did the same. Lucifer laughed, shaking his head and stepping forward, still carrying Mick like a ragdoll.

“You’re not going to be able to kill me. You will always lose.”

Sam shook his head, flipping the angel blade in his hand. “You aren’t touching that child. And you’re going to let Mick go,” he growled. He rushed forward, arm with the blade raised.

“Sam, no!” Dean screamed.


	10. Making Home

The flames heated Dean’s face, drying the tears as quickly as they fell. He couldn’t look away from the body on the pyre, his throat sore from screaming, his limbs aching from strain and exhaustion.

“So. What’re you going to do now?” Crowley asked. Dean jumped a little, looking over at him.

“What do you mean?”

“Dean and Ketch. Just you two now, isn’t it?” He asked, staring at the fire like it held the secrets to life itself.

Dean looked back at the fire. 

“Why would you think he’s all alone?” Sam asked, coming up the trail with a small bag. Mick followed after him, hobbling along on the pair of crutches.

“I assumed you and Mick would be helping Castiel with the baby.”

“We will,” Sam said, passing the bag to Dean. He reached in, pulling out a six pack. “We all will. But Cas has it handled for the most part. I trust him.”

Dean passed a can of beer to Sam and Mick, then to Ketch. He held one out for Crowley, who looked slightly shocked.

“You helped us out, and you did what you could. You earned this. And your spot on the team – if you’re kind of a dick,” Dean explained. Crowley smiled a little and took the can. He opened it, looking back to the fire.

“She saved us all, you know.”

“I know. It doesn’t make it any easier,” Dean whispered.

 

_Three Days Earlier_

“Sam, no!” Dean screamed, leaping forward. Before he could grab Sam, Mary pushed between them, gripping a small satchel in her hand. She shoved Sam backwards and leapt on Lucifer, knocking Mick from his grip. When he stumbled backwards, she mashed the satchel into his face, a bright red liquid running down his cheeks. Behind the brothers, Rowena spoke in a loud voice, a language neither had heard before. They turned around just as wind picked up around them, whipping their hair and clothes. Rowena threw her hands forward, a bright purple light erupting from her palms. The humans in the protective barrier of the cabin all winced, the light almost blinding. 

Dean looked up as soon as the light faded, his eyes bulging. “Mom!” He shouted. Mary plunged the angel blade she’d grabbed out of Sam’s hand into Lucifer’s chest, her hands glowing with the same purple hue from Rowena’s hands. Lucifer stumbled backwards, and Mary withdrew the blade, slicing it across his throat. His grace shown bright blue through the wounds. He snarled, looking twice as deadly – an injured, cornered animal.

“Mom, step back!” Sam cried as Lucifer raised his hand. He caught Mary directly in the chest before she could move, the crack of her ribs audible even over the howling wind. She gasped, stumbling backwards. Even as she moved, she raised the blade for a final blow. Lucifer caught her wrist, grace still bleeding from his open wounds. He slammed his free hand into her chest again, breaking skin and bone this time.

Sam grabbed the angel blade from Dean’s hand and took off, circling around Lucifer and driving the second blade into his back before he had a chance to react. Lucifer froze for a second before his grace began shining through every orifice. He dropped to his knees, drawing in a ragged breath before falling backwards.

At the same moment, Mary fell down, blood oozing from the gaping wound on her chest.

“Rowena!” Sam cried. They all rushed forward, Crowley and Cas checking Lucifer’s corpse as Rowena and Dean went to Sam and Mary. Claire and Ketch rushed to Mick, unsure if he was still breathing. Immediately Rowena began to mutter a spell, trying her best to stop the bleeding magically even as the Winchesters pressed on the wound with Sam’s jacket. Mary was blinking softly, a dazed expression on her face.

“Damnit, Mom,” Dean muttered, close to tears.

She reached up, touching Dean’s wrist with one bloodied hand. “It’s okay.”

“No, come on, Mom – we just got you back,” Sam whispered.

“My good boys,” she whispered before her body went slack.

Dean gave her a little shake, his chin quivering.

“M—Mom? Come on, Mom, please—“ He looked up at Rowena, who shook her head slowly. She closed her eyes, close to tears herself. Dean went still, staring at the body of their mother. A fat tear rolled down his cheek, the only sign of emotion on his face.

“Dean—“ Ketch said softly. He set his hands on Dean’s shoulders but Dean shrugged them off, standing and walking to the edge of the property. He stared off over the water, hugging his arms across his chest.

Ketch looked to Sam, who was still sitting by their mother’s body, looking stunned. “Sam, look at me.”

Sam looked up slowly, his eyes rimmed with wet. “I—“ He cleared his throat, blinking back the tears. “Is Mick okay?”

“He’ll be fine, just got a bump on the head… Are  _you_  okay?”

“I—Mom,” he whispered, finally breaking down. Tears slid down his cheeks even as he struggled to stop them. Rowena reached out, taking his hand. She offered a smile she hoped was comforting. Sam leaned into the touch, allowing her to embrace him.

 

Cas stood over Lucifer’s body, staring down at him.

“He’s gone,” Crowley said, startling him a bit.

“Yes… But look at everything we lost.”

“The child is alive. So are the Winchesters.”

“But Kelly, Lucifer, Mary—“

“The life those hunters choose to lead isn’t an easy one. Tell me, Castiel. What do you intend to do with the child?”

“Raise him. Do what I can. Get help, of course. He’ll be raised as a human, or at least, as human as he can be. And then when he’s old enough, he’ll be given a choice.”

“Do you think he’ll make the right one?” Crowley asked, glancing up at the nursery window.

“I think he will. He’ll have the Winchesters to look up to.”

 

_Present Day_

The bunker was silent despite the number of bodies in it. Cas was there with Jack, Claire was still around, helping around the bunker and with the baby. Today, Crowley and Rowena were both present, a show of quiet solidarity. Ketch and Mick were ever present now, quiet but doting to the grieving brothers.

They knew it would get easier with time. The ache would fade, as it had with their father and with Bobby—but it didn’t make it hurt any less.

Dean tried to bury his pain in alcohol, but Ketch put a stop to it. He kept Dean busy working on one of the cars or motorcycles in the garage. Sam had tried to just block out the pain, but Mick kept prodding, forcing him to talk about it.

The ache would fade – but it stung like the fresh wound it was right now.

 

***

 

“I’m gonna break your damn teeth if you don’t let me go out there,” Dean spat, shoving Ketch backwards.

“Calm down, Mr. Winchester.”

“Don’t you tell me to calm down, you don’t get to tell me that.”

“And why don’t I?”

“I—“ Dean glared. “Move.”

Ketch sighed, crossing his arms and planting his feet more firmly in front of the bedroom door.

 

It had been nearly a month since the brothers had lost their mother. Things had slowly begun getting back to normal – with one exception: Jack.

The baby was easy, as babies go – not too noisy and a great distraction for everyone. Claire adored him and spent hours with him, and Sam and Dean both lost count of the number of times they dozed off rocking him to sleep when Cas needed to leave for a bit. But they hadn’t taken a new job yet. Jack kept them busy and with him and the recent loss – hunting had been pushed to the wayside. And it was starting to show.

Dean and Ketch were getting twitchy, their need to be on the move showing. Even Sam was starting to snap at people, the expanse of the bunker not helping to curb the cabin fever.

 

Jack was a good baby, but today was not a good day. He’d been crying for an hour straight, a nerve wracking wail that could get on the nerves of even the most patient maternal type – and definitely an already short tempered hunter. Dean wasn’t angry at the baby; Sam had been a fussy baby for a while, he knew how to deal with it. He was pissed at Cas, and Sam, and everyone in the bunker that couldn’t soothe Jack.

“You’re too stressed, Dean – you’ll make him worse,” Ketch said softly.

“ _Everything_  is making him worse, Ketch. Let me go fucking help.”

“Dean. Stop.” Ketch stepped forward and set his hands on Dean’s shoulders, not letting him pull away. He squeezed hard enough that Dean winced, but looked at him. “Once you calm down I’ll let out there. The last thing the child needs is to feed off your aggression – you  _know_  how he can be.”

Dean took a deep shaky breath. Ketch wasn’t wrong; Jack had a way of feeding off the emotional energy that people put out – more than a human child ever could. It wouldn’t have been a problem in a semi-normal household, but in a bunker full of stressed out hunters and supernatural creatures, things tended to go a little sideways.

“Okay. Okay, I won’t take a swing, I promise,” Dean said after standing silently for a few minutes. Ketch narrowed his eyes, searching Dean’s face. Dean offered a crooked smile.

“I  _promise_. I just wanna try to calm the kid down.”

Ketch nodded, satisfied, and stepped aside.

Dean hurried out and into the library. “Give him to me,” Dean said, holding his arms out.

Claire looked at him, close to tears. She rushed over, passing Jack to Dean. “I’m sorry, I tried but he wouldn’t calm down for me and Sam seemed to make things worse and Mick didn’t know what to do—“

“Breathe,” Dean said. He began to walk around the library, bouncing Jack in his arms. “Where’s Cas?” He asked above the fussing.

“He had to go out. There was something weird going on with some angels and him and Crowley were going to deal with it. He didn’t expect Jack to—I’m sorry, Dean.”

“Hey—You tried,” Dean said with a surprising amount of patience. “Go get yourself some water and take a step outside, get some air and breathe. You’re doing fine, Claire.”

She sighed. “To be honest I just want kill something.” Dean grinned at that.

“Me too. I think it’s about time we start looking for a hunt.”

“Really?” Claire perked up.

“You know, you don’t  _have_  to stay around. You can go, get back to Jody or hunting, or whatever you need to do.”

Claire looked at her feet, running the scuffed toe of her Converse along the floor. “I know,” she said softly, “but I kinda… I owe you guys a lot. All of you. And I like the rugrat a little – but I’ll punch you if you tell anyone I said that.”

Dean laughed, nodding when she looked back up at him. “You’re welcome here as long as you want to stay. Just make sure to keep Jody updated, huh? You know she worries.”

“She knows I’m with you guys.”

“Yeah, and when has the name Winchester ever equaled safe?” Dean asked.

Claire laughed and shrugged. “I’ll give her a call.”

“Thanks. And then go find Sam and start looking for a hunt.”

“Are you okay with him?”

Dean looked down at Jack and nodded. He was still fussing, but it had become quieter. Bright blue eyes were locked on Dean’s face, one chubby hand grabbing at the collar of his flannel.

“Yeah, he’s good. Sam was a lot worse than this when he was a baby. If I need help I’ll drag Ketch out.”

Claire snorted. “Ketch being near him makes me nervous.”

“Pardon me, I’m not going to hurt him,” Ketch said from the doorway. Claire jumped, whipping around.

“I mean—I—“

“Makes me nervous too,” Dean said, smirking at Ketch’s almost offended expression. “Admit it, man—You  _hate_  kids.”

Ketch cleared his throat, fixing his shirt. “I’m not entirely fond of them, no.”

“That’s why we get nervous. Jack’s not a normal kid – he picks up on that.”

“Well regardless, I’d never injure him. He’s fine. And he makes you quite happy,” Ketch admitted.

Dean smirked a little. “We’re not adopting one.”

“Oh dear God, you needn’t even  _joke_  about that. This one is more than enough, thank you.”

“Do me a favor? Go get his doll?”

“The strange one the witch made for him?”

“Yeah.”

“Oh, it’s in his crib,” Claire said. “I can go get it.” Dean nodded as she rushed out. He continued to walk through the library, bouncing the baby in his arms. He could feel Ketch watching him. Claire returned with the doll and passed it to Dean before disappearing back down the hallway to find where Sam had gone to.

 

Dean looked up after a moment, his cheeks pinking up under Ketch’s intense stare. “What?”

“Nothing, nothing, you are very good with him.”

“Well, I had experience with Sam. It’s not too different.”

“You look… Content.”

Dean shrugged. He bopped Jack on the nose with the doll lightly, sighing in relief when Jack giggled instead of starting into another bout of tears, grabbing at it. “I got a way with kids, I guess. I don’t feel content. I need to hunt. I’m having Claire look for one with Sam.”

“What about Jack?”

“Mick and Cas can handle him for a few days. Mick seems content not hunting, so. Sam, if he wants to stay, but I think he’s just as antsy as the rest of us.”

“So it would be you, myself, Sam, and Claire?”

Dean nodded, settling into the chair and kicking his feet up. “Unless you wanna stay behind and help with the poop machine.”

Ketch grimaced, picking up a chair from the table and turning it to sit facing Dean. “Not at all. But perhaps we should spread our resources a bit further. There are four of us – perhaps we should look into finding a few jobs – rather than expending all of our talents on something that probably won’t need it.”

Dean nodded. “Makes sense. We’ll see what we can find. Claire prefers hunting alone anyway –  much as I don’t like it.”

“I can tag along with her. Make sure she doesn’t hurt herself,” Ketch offered.

Dean snorted. “She’d be more likely to castrate you than take your help willingly. She’s stubborn as a mule.”

“One would think she learned it from a certain Winchester.”

Dean’s eyebrows shot up. His mouth curled into a smile and he shrugged. “You’d think so. But nah, he’s been bull headed since the day I met her. She was a good little kid but—A lot of shit in her life. She turned out alright.”

“Dean!” Claire cried, rushing into the library. Dean grimaced, looking down at Jack.

“Shh, or  _you’ll_  be getting him back to sleep,” Dean warned. Claire grimaced, stopping near the chair.

“Sorry.”

“It’s fine. What are you screaming about?”

“Sam and I found like four  _awesome_  cases all close together. I bet if we split up we could get them knocked out in like a week or two.” She held out a stack of paper that Sam must have printed off. Dean shifted Jack to one arm, snagging the papers and flipping through them.

“Hey, this sounds like a chupacabra – I haven’t seen one of those in the states in years. I’m taking that one.” Give me an hour and we’ll go.”

“Make it two,” Claire said, taking the papers back and flopping into the chair next to Ketch. He frowned a little but said nothing, still earning a half glare from the teenager.

“Why?”

“Cause when I left the room it looked like your brother was about to jump Harry Potter’s bones before I left.”

Dean wrinkled his nose and Ketch huffed. “Why is everything British devolved to a crack about a fictional teenage wizard?”

“Give me a better pun and I’ll start using it instead,” Claire shot back.

Dean cleared his throat. “Ketch—Why don’t you go make sure our weapons are good to go? Claire—You wanna take Jack and put him in his crib?”

“Why me?” Claire whined.

“Because if you two are in the same room for longer than ten minutes I’m afraid you’ll murder each other. Go.”

Claire rolled her eyes but smiled, rising and taking Jack from Dean. “I’d win.”

“Go, Claire.”

She shrugged and took Jack out of the room. Ketch rose, fixing his clothing.

“So, a chupacabra.”

When Dean didn’t answer, Ketch looked up at him. Dean was biting back a grin, his chin quivering with the fight not to laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“Say that again?” Dean asked, humor clear in his voice.

“Say what? Chupacabra?”

Dean burst out laughing for a second, covering his mouth quickly. He shook his head. “I’m sorry—You—sometimes I forget you’ve got such a thick accent.”

Ketch blinked at him. “I don’t have an accent. At least I pronounce my words.”

Dean laughed again. “Sure, man. You and Mick have accents. You live in the US now, deal with it.”

Ketch shook his head, patting Dean on the shoulder. Even as he walked out of the library, Dean followed, repeating the word in the most ridiculous bastardization of Ketch’s voice that he could manage.

 


End file.
